Just a little bit North of Brighton is a town called Hassocks. If you're on the fast train between London and Brighton you might miss it as the station could well be a blur when you go through. But, since it only takes about ten minutes to get there from Brighton, it is as easy for me to take a temp job there as over in Kemptown (which is a fifteen minute walk). And with a bit of luck, I can sit on the train.

I had got a job to cover for the administrative assistant at a golf club in Hassocks. That kind of job can be challenging--the club relies on one person to do lots of stuff, and then they're off sick with a twisted ankle or whatever, and you get thrown into the middle of things to cover for them. But everything they know how to do is in their head, not written down.

Anyway, I had been working at the golf club for a couple of days and knew which train I needed to get to be there on time and the best route from the station to the club. I had also worked out the perfect skirt length to (on the one hand) keep the male members on-side and keen to be helpful without (on the other hand) alienating myself with the female members. Just above the knee was the happy medium, with a buttoned blouse which could switch from reasonably demure to downright slutty by doing or undoing a couple of buttons.

The walk to the station is only about ten minutes and I made it with plenty of time to spare. I already had my ticket so made my way to the platform. I was on a slightly later train today (had arrived too early the day before) and was surprised at just how busy this train was going to be. I suppose that this was the last train the poor London commuters could get and still be in their offices in time.

The train pulled in and there was an announcement that it would be departing as soon as it was loaded, so as to keep on schedule. I ended up standing on the platform between two doors on the train, so I was one of the last to get on. No chance of a seat that day, and I felt rather like a sardine must feel (minus the oil or tomato sauce) squeezed on all sides. The train gave a jolt before it started and that almost knocked me over. I had to rely on the guy next to me to hold me up. I gave him a big smile and thanked him. One hand was holding my handbag, the other reached up to hold onto the rail above my head. That rather stretched my blouse across my chest, and my saviour had a hard time keeping his eyes off my bosom.

The train started to get going and I breathed a sigh of relief. I should still be in plenty of time to get to work. As you leave Brighton the train picks up speed and then goes through a short tunnel. The carriage goes dark through the tunnel, but only for ten or fifteen seconds, if that. Well as soon as we were in the tunnel, I felt a hand grab at my arse. It made me jump, almost literally. This was not accidental, it was a definite grope. And it wasn't a hand grabbing my skirt, it was up my skirt and grabbing my bare arse (I have always been a stockings girl, not a tights girl and was wearing a thong that day). I barely had time to wiggle, squeal or protest before the hand was gone and we were out of the tunnel. Anyone who looked at me ought to have seen that I was blushing furiously, and looking around for guilty expressions. The groper could have been any of four or five blokes none of whom seemed now to be paying the slightest attention to me.

Well, I put it down to experience, shuffled my feet to get a bit more comfortable, held on tight and on we went, thinking that it wouldn't be long before my station. Then I realized: between Brighton and Hassocks, there are in fact two tunnels. Going North, the shorter one comes first. We would be in the second one for getting on for a minute. As the train rumbled along I was thinking, actually, I rather enjoyed feeling that hand on my behind. I wondered which of the blokes standing around me had had the nerve to grab me and what he might do through the longer tunnel. Well, like I said, the whole journey is probably ten minutes or so, so it wasn't long before we got to the second tunnel.

As soon as we were in the dark, I felt the hand back again. This time, it was on a mission; he (it had to be a bloke, there were no women near me) pulled at the back or my thong, pulling it down my legs enough that he could slip his fingers underneath. Anyone else might have tried to close their legs, but I was too turned on for that. Instead I bent at the knees just a little, trying to open my legs and let him slip his fingers inside me. Have you ever gasped, and tried to disguise it as a cough? Well, me neither, until that moment, and I am not at all sure it was convincing. But here I was in a very crowded train and some bloke had managed to slip not one, but two fingers into my slit. I gave his fingers a little squeeze with my pussy, just to say hi (as it were) but in another few seconds the train had left the tunnel and was puling into Hassocks station.

In the process of fingering me, he had lifted my skirt and I now needed to perform a demure wiggle to get it back into place. I started looking around discretely to try to spot my molester, and then I realized who it was--the old bloke (mid-sixties?) with the RAF mustache. How did I know it was him, you may ask. Well, two things. First, his mustache could not hide his smile; second he was licking his fingers. Isn't that a giveaway?

The English are known for their politeness, so, half a dozen or a dozen "excuse mes" later, I manged to get out of the carriage and safely onto the platform. And who was standing beside me, but RAF. He was wearing a pair of tweed trousers and a navy blue blazer with brass buttons--and he was twiddling his mustache. "What a lovely morning," he said. And it really was, the sky was blue and spring was springing.

So I returned his smile, "Yes, it is."

We joined the queue to get through the gate and off the platform, him standing right behind me--perhaps a little too close, as I could feel his breath on my neck. "My dear," he said. "You smell absolutely ravishing. What a delightful perfume."

I looked around at him and smiled, then I saw him put his finger to his nose and sniff. What a randy old bugger. I knew what he meant. "Thank you." I smiled. "I think it's unique."

"I am sure it is, young lady."

As we emerged form the station, RAF approached me and said, "Do you know your way around this fine town my dear?"

"Yes, thank you." I replied, giving him a big smile. "I am heading for the golf club."

"Ah ha! A fine establishment. Would you mind it if I joined you?"

"Not at all," I said. And off we went. Well, the walk between the station and the gold club takes you mostly through residential streets and, at that time of day they are quite busy: commuters walking to the station or driving to their jobs, kids walking and being walked to school. Our conversation stopped and started as we walked, but he was happy to walk at the pace set by my heels.

"I do enjoy the spring," said RAF.

"As do I," I replied. "So nice to feel the warmth of the sun."

"I agree," he responded, "and when ladies feel the warmth of the spring, their skirts shrink and they shed their winter woolies."

I gave a little chuckle.

"So you appreciate a shapely ankle, do you?"

"Absolutely! And more than just the ankle, I'll have you know."

To this I had to whisper, "I think I already know, don't I?" I gave him a theatrical wink.

He smiled back at me and said, "Well, when you reach my age, why not chance your arm, eh?"

I smiled and bit my lower lip. "Why not," I whispered.

As we got closer to the golf club, RAF (I still didn't know his name) suggested we take a short cut, which took us passed a park and some garages. Fair enough, I thought and followed his lead. By the park was a building (not really sure what it was) Anyway, there was a narrow place between that building and an overgrown hedge. When we got there, RAF said, "Excuse me, my dear. I seem to have been caught short. Would you mind waiting a moment while I answer the call of nature?"

"No problem," I said. He sneaked out of sight into the bushes--I really couldn't see him at all. Thirty seconds late, he called out to me, "Er, my dear? Any chance you could come back here? I seem to have dropped my keys."

"Sure," I replied. "No problem." I scrabbled in between the building and the bushes to see RAF with his back to me, apparently searching the ground for his keys.

"Where did you drop them?" I asked.

When he turned around, I saw immediately that this had been a ruse. His cock was sticking out of his trousers, and it was enormous. I mean, enormous. Ten inches long and as thick as my wrist. Enough to make any girl swoon.

"Oh my God," I gasped.

"Funny how it happens," he said, nonchalantly, "You go looking for one thing and find something completely different. Eh?"

He was seriously in his sixties, a retired gent--but he still had some libido left. That cock was standing to attention and eager for attention. I stepped closer and so did he. Then I reached out my hand and wrapped it around his member (as best I could). "Mmmmm," he groaned.

"This is only fair," I said. "Given how presumptuous you were with me on the train."

"Mmmm. I suppose so, my dear."

I crouched down--there was really no way I could kneel, the ground was too rough. I rubbed my hands (both of them) up and down his meat. He reached out and grabbed a handful of tit in each hand. Then he undid those top two buttons and slipped his hands inside my blouse, pinching my hardened nipples through the lacy material of my bra. Meanwhile I kissed the tip of his member, then used my tongue to trace the shape of his helmet. One hand rubbing his throbbing cock, the other fishing in his trousers to cup his balls. He got his hands inside my bra and grabbed my tits and, as he did I opened my mouth and leaned forward to take as much of I could of his cock into my mouth.

RAF stayed silent as he rocked back and forth, feeling my lips tight around his cock as he fucked my mouth. My God he was huge; I thought I was going to dislocate my jaw as I sucked him. I pressed my tongue against the underside of his shaft and rubbed the base of his shaft faster and faster; squeezing his balls and sucking his cock. How long could the old codger last? Well, quite a while it seems. My jaw was aching and I didn't think I could last much longer. He held my head and pulled me off him. He went behind me, and grabbed my hips, pushing me from behind so I was up against a tree. Then he unceremoniously lifted my skirt, pulled aside my thong and tried to ram his cock into me. At first he almost pushed his way into my bum, but I seriously think he would have done me some damage, so I guided his cock into my soaking wet pussy and let him fuck me from behind.

He mauled at my tits as he fucked me like a man half his age giving me every inch of his massive cock. I had to hold onto the tree just to remain upright. My knees were shaking and the world was starting to spin around me. Then, without any warning, he slipped his cock almost completely out of me and the rammed it home one last time--exploding deep inside me. Well, that final thrust sent me over the edge and I squealed like a pig as I came--almost collapsing to the floor as I did so. But RAF held me up and, with the support of the tree, I was able to stay on my feet. He slipped his cock from my throbbing cunt and I felt hot cum dripping down my thigh. I was looking quite disheveled. I tried to straighten my clothing and my hair. Using a little mirror I applied some new lipstick, then glanced at my watch.

"Shit--I am late."

"Oh dear. I must apologize," said the old gent. "Entirely my fault, I am sure."

I smiled back at him, "No worries. But listen, I don't know my way from here. Can you show me how to get to the golf club?"

"Certainly my dear," he said as he pushed his cock into his trousers, then twiddled his mustache. I followed him the rest of the way to the golf course, and ended up being only about ten minutes late.

"Well, my dear. It has been delightful to meet you. I am just going to have a quick word with the chairman before I take my leave."

"Nice to meet you too," I replied as demurely as I could manage. He gave a little bow and of he toddled, leaving me to go into the office and start my work.

Well, I was in a bit of a mess, still leaking cum as I tried to get my head around what needed doing. It took me ten minutes to realize I had way too many buttons undone on my blouse and was just doing them up when in walked the chairman. He was in his forties and had a bit of a middle aged spread going on. Balding, but nice close cropped hair--no sign of a comb-over.

"Ah. Hello Nicki, I hear you just met Jacko."

I looked puzzled.

"The Air Force looking gent who walked you from the station."

"Ah yes," I replied, "I didn't know his name."

"Colonel Jackson," replied the chairman. "One of our oldest members."

"And one of your biggest," I thought to myself.

He smiled as if he was reading my mind. What had the Colonel said? What did the chairman know?

"He's a sweet old man," I said. "A real gentleman." If the chairman knew what had just happened, he'd know that was far from the truth.

"Indeed," was the response. "Indeed." There was a pause, as if he wasn't sure what (if anything) still needed saying. Then, "Well, could you bring me a cup of tea when you have a moment?"

"Of course," I replied. when you're at the bottom of the totem pole, you get to do all the best jobs, don't you?

A few minute later, after knocking on the chairman's door, I walked around his desk to put down his cup of tea (splash of milk, no sugar). Then, in a single moment of realization, I knew that Jacko had told the chairman what had happened on my way to work. As I glanced down, I saw that the chairman had his cock out as he sat at his desk, and it was tall and throbbing. Almost with relief though, I saw that it was much smaller than the colonel's.

"Nicki," said he chairman. "I do think you ought to keep time a little better in the future. You were late for work this morning."

"Yes," I replied, "I am sorry about that, but I got waylayed by Colonel Jackson on route, as we looked for his keys."

I leaned over and put down his cup of tea; I was slightly off balance and it only took him to apply a tiny bit of pressure at the back of my neck and I was sprawled across the chairman's lap. Once I was down, he held me in place with one hand and roughly pulled at my skirt with the other. I could feel his erection pushing into my stomach.

Whack! My bum stung from the first slap, and I squealed as the second one hit. "Ouch."

"I don't want you being late again," said the chairman, "Is that understood."

"Yes," I replied.

"Yes, sir." He corrected me, and, as if to punctuate my reply, slapped my arse again. Over and over again, he spanked me, and I could feel my bum burning; it must be glowing red. Eventually, he pushed me off his lap so I was keeling next to him, and I saw his long slender cock waving at me.

"Colonel Jackson told me that you know precisely what to do."

I certainly did. I leaned forward and took his length into my willing mouth, sucking and licking at it. I was moaning and groaning with the pleasure of it when there was a knock at the door.

"One moment," called out the chairman.

I had nowhere to go. I couldn't imagine why he bothered playing for time. In seconds we'd be caught by whoever, clearly up to something that would be frowned on at any decent golf club. But he bustled me under his desk and pushed his chair closer in so I was trapped under his desk. Then he opened a drawer and called, "Come in." As--whoever it was--came into the room, he shut the drawer again (as if he had been finishing something up before inviting them).

"Ah. Good morning Mr Webster."

I knew him, he was the club's professional (well, that's what they called him--anyway, he was the guy who gave people their golfing lessons). The chairman put his hand under the desk and pulled my head back to his lap. The dirty sod wanted me to suck his cock while he talked to Webster.

"It's Mrs. Fletcher again."

"Oh yes?" said the chairman.

"She's refusing to pay her bill. Can you have a word with her please? Every time I give her the bill, she says its wrong and challenges it; there's never any problem, just delaying tactics. A real pain in the arse."

"Language--please. This is a respectable club."

That made me laugh so I decided to give his balls a squeeze and took his whole length into my mouth, my nose nuzzling his pubes. He couldn't help but groan.

"Are you alright?" asked Webster.

"Yes, yes. Fine thank you, yes." But then he groaned again as I slipped a finger into his tight little arsehole.

"Absolutely, fine. Thank you! Look, I will talk to Mrs Fletcher and get your bill sorted out. In fact, I'll get Nicki to do it today."

"I was going to ask her myself," replied Webster, "but I couldn't find her."

"She's around somewhere," Replied the chairman as I raked my teeth down his shaft. A few minutes after Webster left the office, I was rewarded with a mouthful of cum from the chairman. He let me out from under the desk and I went back to my desk to get on with my job. No rest for the wicked.

...ooOoo...

So about half way through the morning, Steve Webster popped into the office to say hello. I smiled at him as I thought back to kneeling under the chairman's desk. What a slut. "Hi," he said. "How about lunch in the bar? Interested?"

Well, Steve was a good looking man. as a semi-professional sports man he needed to keep himself in pretty good shape. He was five ten or five eleven and slim and trim. A nice looking guy with slicked back dark hair. I suppose I didn't really care for the golf garb that he wore, but then that does really go with the territory.

"Sure," I replied. "What time?"

"I'll stop by just after 12:30. I have a lesson that finishes then."

"Sounds good! See you then." And off he went. I spent the rest of the morning going through accounts, working out who had and had not paid their membership dues this month, who had bar tabs that were out of control, who had paid for their lessons--that sort of thing. It was drudgery really, but I needed to do something to keep from thinking about how sore my pussy was; the colonel's cock was enormous. Seriously. When I did think of it, my pussy would spasm and a little more cum would seep out onto the gusset of my knickers. 12:30 rolled around and I was getting quite hungry so I was glad when Steve was on time.

By 12:45, we were sitting in the club bar. We had ordered a couple of sandwiches; I took a glass of white wine to the corner table, and he took a half a bitter. I sat with my back to the wall looking out over the bar; he sat facing me. We made small talk about his various pupils and how much they owed until our sandwiches arrived. I swear he purposely waited until I had a mouth full of sandwich before he said, "I had a lovely chat with Colonel Jackson this morning."

I almost choked. "Oh really?" I replied.

"Yes," said Steve, "He mentioned that he'd met you and how... accommodating you had been."

"I see," I replied, and Steve smiled broadly.

"Nice of you to take care of such an important member."

"Oh very good," I said under by breath.

"Pardon?"

"Glad to!" I said.

He smiled again. "From what I hear--on the grapevine--he can be a hard man to accommodate."

"Oh good grief." I thought to myself. But he was a good looking chap, and he filled his trousers nicely; I imagined nice muscly legs and a toned torso. My pussy was still seeping the colonel's deposit, but I felt that familiar urge as I smiled back at Steve "Mr Pun" Webster.

"I suppose so. But he's such an old dear. I was glad to help."

"I should warn you though. He's not such an old dear really. He has a tendency to kiss and tell, so to speak. Your... liaison with him is probably the talk of the club this morning."

I started blushing, "I see."

Steve took a bite of his sandwich and I did the same. I drank more wine as I thought through the implications of what he had said. It was too late. The horse had bolted, the cat was out of the bag. Elvis had left the building. Everyone would already know--or know very soon--that I was a bit of a slapper.

"Oh God." I said as it all hit me.

"Not to worry," Steve replied. "I am sure it will be okay. It is not the first time, and probably won't be the last--though I really don't know how long the colonel's heart will keep going at this rate."

I chuckled.

"It will all blow over soon--as soon as he makes another conquest," he smiled, "And at his current rate of knots, by this time next week, it will all be forgotten."

"You think I'll keep my job?"

"Oh, I should think so," he winked.

There'll be plenty of members wanting to check the voracity of the colonel's stories.

"Oh God. What have I let myself in for?"

I put down my sandwich and swallowed the rest of my wine.

"Thirsty?" said Steve.

"Not so much," I said. "More like bracing myself."

Then Steve was laughing.

"Look, Nicki. I think you just need to relax about the whole thing. Really. Don't worry. The club likes you. We think it would be great to find a place for you to carry on here. But, just one question."

"What's that?"

"Do you actually play golf?"

"Not really. I replied. "Only if there's a windmill getting in the way of the hole. You know, crazy golf."

"I see," he replied. "Well, if you're going to be an effective employee of the club, I think you need to understand a little more about the game."

I nodded.

"So, I have arranged that you spend the afternoon with me and I'll teach you some golf. Okay?"

I shrugged, "Sure. Thanks, Steve."

He took me over to his office and found me some suitable clothes--they were all new, samples sent by suppliers in the hope that the club shop would pick up the new lines. I put on a pair of slacks, and some nice two-tone golf shoes. The jumper was plain (not Pringle) and fit me quite tightly. Then a plain dark wind-cheater and I was ready to go. Steve led me out to the beginning of the course. He had got a golf cart ready, with his clubs and a set for me.

"Look," he said. "It would be good if we can take our time. There is a foursome about half way around the course, and another four with a tee time in about fifteen minutes. Let's take the cart up to the 9th tee and start there. It will take ages for the next group to catch up and we'll be just behind those in front of us. While you're just starting, they're bound to be faster than us."

"Sounds good," I replied. I jumped onto the golf cart with him and off we went. It took us a few minutes to get out to the ninth tee, and I started to get a sense for how big a golf course is. I could see the group of men on the green as we arrived at the tee.

Steve took out a wood, put a ball on the tee, and started talking me through how to swing. I just smiled and nodded; I thought I could mimic what he was doing, and he showed me the details of how he twisted his fingers together to grip the club. When the others hand finished on the green, he gave a final look then gave the ball a mighty thwack down the fairway.

"Wow," I said, "Impressive."

"Your turn," he replied.

It was all harder than it looked. He'd managed to balance the ball on the tee with one hand while holding the club. I ended up dropping the ball, putting down the club and bumbling about before I was standing next to the ball and getting ready to swing. Steve let me have a go without any help at all, but when I went to swing at the ball, I closed my eyes and missed the thing completely. At least he didn't laugh.

"Okay," he said. "Good points: your grip looks good, and the golf ball is staying on the tee."

I looked at him with a mock frown and pouted.

He chuckled. "Nobody gets it right first time."

Steve stood behind me and leaned over me, talking me through my swing. His hands gently gripping my hands and shadowing my movement--slight adjustments in my stance and my grip. He was so close I could smell his aftershave, feel the warmth of his legs, his body. "Now," he said. "Try again." He stepped back and I took another swing. "Gently does it."

Thwack! Well, this time at least I connected with the ball. it went off--quite low to the ground and off to the left, ending up in some trees. But I was all smiles--grinning from ear to ear. "Much better," he said. "Now let's go see if we can find your ball."

"But isn't it your turn?"

"That's not how it works, Nicki. The person whose ball is furthest from the hole goes next..."

"And that's me."

"That's you."

"Could be my turn for a while."

"We'll see." He smiled. He was trying to be encouraging.

We got into longer grass, then bushes and then trees--the air smelled of pine, there were needles underfoot and it seemed very dry too. We looked around and it didn't take us too long to find my ball. Right next to a tree.

"How am I supposed to hit it from there?"

Steve chuckled, "It's a tricky shot, but you can give it a go if you want."

"I can't just move the ball?"

"Well, you can..." He hesitated, "But you have to take a forfeit."

"What kind of forfeit?"

"Usually a stroke."

"What kind of game is this!?"

"I mean a golf stroke."

"Is that a special kind of stroke?" I really didn't know--I wasn't being intentionally dim.

"It means we count it as if you have hit the ball an extra time," he explained.

"Ah. I see."

"But, I suppose we might be able to devise other forfeits."

"Like..."

He took a step towards me. "Well..." he whispered, "After what the colonel was telling me this morning, I did wonder..."

I raised my eyebrows, "Oh you did, did you?"

"Mmmm hmmm," he nodded.

"And how many strokes would that be worth?" I smiled, eyes twinkling.

"Oh. I am sure we could come to an... amicable arrangement."

I bit my lip, then said, "You seem very amicable."

"Oh I am, I am."

I took a step closer to him, our noses were almost touching. Without my heels I was maybe three or four inches shorter than him. I put my hand on his thigh. "If I stroke your thigh like that, what's that worth."

"Oh, not very much I am afraid. I could probably move your ball six inches or so from where it is."

I shook my head, "That's really not enough, is it?"

I raked at his thigh through his trousers, "And now?"

"Maybe a foot?" he smirked.

I slid my hand over his crotch, feeling his growing cock in my hand. I gave it a squeeze and just raised my eyebrows as if to ask, "And now?"

He swallowed, "Now we might be getting somewhere."

I grinned. "I think I can get the hang of this game." I unzipped his fly and slipped my hand inside, caressing his cock, then slipping it out--it was growing in my hand. I started stroking his cock as it grew, until I had eight solid inches (and thick!) throbbing in my hand.

"You have definitely got the fundamentals." said Steve.

My other hand cupped his sack and gave it a squeeze. "But I need to do better at ball control." I quipped.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied. "I think you're doing very well."

I knelt down in front of him and looked up as I stroked him. I lifted his cock upright and leaned in, licking at his balls. I opened my lips and took one of his testicles into my mouth, humming, breathing through my mouth, swirling it around with my tongue.

"Oh sweet Jesus," he said, and I felt he knees go weak.

I took his other testicle into my mouth as well, and sucked on them both--feeling his cock twitch in my hand in response. Then I rubbed at his cock, faster and faster. I didn't expect him to come as fast as he did, I kind of wanted to swallow his load, but I still had his balls in my mouth when he erupted and shot his cum over my head, leaving me a sticky mess in my hair.

"Now, that's really not fair," I said. "You've had your fun, but I've not had mine..."

"Good God Nicki, that was amazing. I have never ever felt anything like that before. I just couldn't help myself."

"Then I think that's exactly what I'm going to have to do."

"What?"

"Help myself."

I had had a wicked idea. Wicked enough that it might just get Steve ready for another round. I sat down on the bed of pine needles and lifted up my jumper, showing off my bra. I unclipped it and lifted my boobs out so that they showed above my bra and below my jumper (I was still wearing the windcheater as well, you know). Anyway, my boobs were on show, so I started playing with them, cupping them, pressing them together, pinching and twisting my nipples.

Steve just stood there, watching me, dumbstruck. I was really enjoying myself. I popped the button on my slacks and unzipped them. One hand still caressing my own boobs, the other sliding between my legs. Of course I was already wet and it didn't take long for me to slip two fingers into my pussy. Slowly sliding them in and out, in and out. I worked my slacks and knickers down my thighs and then down to my ankles (couldn't get them passed my shoes). Then, with my legs spread I could slip three fingers into myself and give myself a good frigging. Steve knelt down beside me; he couldn't stop himself reaching out and grabbing a handful of tit.

"Make yourself useful," I said, "And pass me a putter."

In a daze, Steve did as I asked, and handed me his putter. I held the metal head of the club against my thigh--it was cold, and made me tingle. I slowly slid it up my thigh until it brushed my labia, then slipped the tip between my lips and into my sopping cunt.

"Oh Fuck," said Steve. This was enough for him, and I could see his cock starting to swell again.

Holding the shaft of the putter between my tits, I slipped the head in and out of my pussy, fucking myself with it. The cold metal felt amazing inside me. In and out, in and out, fucking myself with the small metal cock.

"You're fucking amazing," he growled.

I was certainly turned on, but it wasn't enough. I wanted more. So I leaned back, lying on the ground now, and teased myself with the club's handle. The leather of the handle felt totally different as I pushed it inside me--not nearly as cold or as slippery as the metal. But I could take more of it, and it was thicker. Inch by inch, I eased the putter's handle inside of me, and Steve started rubbing his hardening cock. Little by little, I got more of the club inside me, until I felt as full as I had with Jacko that morning, "Oh God, yes." I whispered, "Yes."

I glanced over at Steve, and saw that he was now sporting a raging hard-on. Well, flesh and blood cock is better than a golf club, so it was time to switch. I told him to lie down, then kicked off my shoes so I could take my slacks right off. Then I stood over him, and crouched down, feeding his cock inside me, with my back to him. Slowly, slowly, I took more of him inside me until, kneeling on the ground, I had every inch of him inside. Steve started thrusting upward, and I met each thrust as I bounced up and down on his cock. I could reach down and play with his balls as I fucked him. Well, Steve wasn't short of staying power. He fucked me hard and fast for an age.

After a while I stood up, turned around and slid back down onto him. Then I rubbed at the hard little nub of my clit as we fucked, and he mauled my tits--pinching at my nipples, raking at the soft flesh of my chest. On and on, I was sweating and tired, but Steve kept on fucking me. He grabbed my waist and lifted me off, then got me on my knees and fucked me like a bitch from behind, with each hand squeezing a tit. Oh God, it was good. He pushed a finger into my arse and I squealed. His knuckles were pressing into my bum cheek and I was coming; my pussy gripped his cock, and my arse his finger, as I fell forward onto the ground and felt the orgasm tear through me. But he was still going. Unstoppable. I was exhausted, but he kept going, hammering into my cunt with all his might.

On and on, he fucked me, relenting only long enough to turn me over, lift my legs over his shoulders and fuck me again. His hands on my breasts (oh how he loved my tits) and ramming his massive cock deep into me, balls slapping against me as he hammered and hammered away. I couldn't have stopped him if I wanted to (what makes you think I'd want him to?); he fucked harder and faster and deeper and harder and faster and deeper until it was all a blur. I came over and over again; my cunt throbbing with pleasure and at last, with a final gargantuan thrust, he came. I felt like he'd split me in two, as I arched my back to get every last inch of him inside me. And I came with him, biting at his shoulder to avoid an earth shattering scream.

Steve collapsed on top of me and I didn't have the strength to move him. I needed a while to catch my breath. And in all that time, my golf ball hadn't moved an inch.

...ooOoo...

I was a mess. Pine needles and cum in my hair, pine needles stuck to my bum. Well, pine needles everywhere--and cum pretty much everywhere too. Dripping down my legs, dripping over my face. But Steve didn't seem to mind. I slipped my bra back on, pulled down my jumper; pulled my slacks back on (didn't bother with the thong) and slipped my golf shoes on to my feet. From a distance, I looked dressed--maybe even respectable. But up close, I was still a mess. Steve was in better shape. He just seemed able to brush himself off and he looked like he had just left the club house.

As I was trying to brush pine needles from my slacks I said, "So, Steve. You had no intention of teaching me about golf, did you? It was just a ruse, wasn't it?"

"Ah. I can see there are no flies on you, Nicki." He replied.

"No, just flippin' pine needles."

He chuckled and tried to help me wipe the pine needles off. He gave me a hankie and helped me with the cum in my hair too--well, it was his fault. We picked up our clubs and the ball, and headed back out onto the fairway. We got in the cart and Steve headed up the fairway to collect his ball, then we headed back to the clubhouse. On the way, he was hailed by a group of four blokes at the fourth hole. 'Oh crap, I have to stop. Sorry Nicki. One of these boys is the chairman's son--can't ignore him."

All I could do was shrug. I really did look a mess, but we couldn't just drive past. He pulled up to these guys--they actually looked like sixth formers--eighteen or nineteen. "Hello Mr Webster," said the lad who had hailed us.

"Hello Simon," he replied, "How can I help."

"Just wanted to check we're still on for tomorrow's lesson?"

"Yes, no problem, Simon. See you at three."

All four of the lads were checking me out. They could tell I was looking pretty disheveled. One whispered to Simon and he clocked that there was something in my hair. Steve had started to pull away, when Simon called out, "Excuse me Miss."

Steve stopped, damn him.

"Yes?" I said.

"Are you all right?"

"I am fine thank you."

He smiled, "Do you work for the club, for my dad?"

I smiled, "Yes, I do."

"Then what are you doing out here?"

"Ah. Mr. Webster here was showing me the fundamentals."

"I bet he was."

"Of golf."

"Oh really?"

"Yes, really."

"Come on Simon, I really need to get Nicki back to the clubhouse." Said Steve, sounding desperate.

"No," he replied, "Wait a minute." Simon turned back to me, "If he was teaching you golf fundamentals, why have you got spunk in your hair?"

How could I deny it? Everyone could see it; dabbing at it with Steve's hankie had just smeared it around really, not much more.

"If you're giving it out," Simon continued, "Then we get some."

"Now come on Simon..." Started Steve.

"Shut up! You've had yours, now we want ours. This little slut of yours can satisfy us, or I'll be going to my dad to tell him what he's paying you for." Simon beckoned me out of the golf cart and he lead me to another clump of trees. His mates followed as did Steve. As we got under cover beneath the trees (and more bloody pine needles) Simon said, "On your knees, bitch."

I was exhausted and in a bit of a daze. It had already been a hell of a day, what with the colonel and the chairman and then the marathon session with Steve.

There was not much fight in me, so I got down on my knees. Simon unzipped himself and pulled his trousers down his thighs, then thrust his cock at me and said, "Go on, slut--suck on that." It was a nice looking young cock--smooth and slender. I took his balls in my hand and opened my mouth. God, he was eager--thrusting away like a porn star, with my head held in his hands. Meanwhile, his three mates were getting their own cocks out. One was playing with my tits, another trying to lift my jumper the third guiding my hand towards his semi-hard prick. It wasn't long before I felt the cold air on my breasts and a pair of hands groping at them. More hands pulling at my slacks to undo them. Jesus this lot were enthusiastic.

Then my slacks were at my knees and I felt a cock sliding down my arse crack, trying to find a way in. Soon I had one in my mouth another up my cunt and one in each hand too. Steve appeared really nervous and standing back--he couldn't keep from watching, but wanted to keep a lookout too.

Simon was fucking my mouth with a will, and one of the other lads was deep in my dripping wet cunt (talk about sloppy seconds) the other two getting the hand jobs seemed to be just waiting their turns. I don't think Simon was very experienced with anything but his own right hand, for all his bravado, as he came quite quickly and gave me a big mouthful of cum. A little leaked onto my lips but I managed to swallow most of it. "Yes, bitch." He whispered as I licked my lips.

Then one of the other two (a much thicker, but shorter cock) took Simon's place and started fucking my mouth. I raked my teeth along his shaft and pressed my tongue against the underside of his member; now that I had a hand free, I played with his balls too. Meanwhile, the lad fucking me from behind had pulled out and spunked all over my arse.

When the last of them took up position behind me, I had both hands free. I teased stubby's balls with one hand and reached between his legs with the other, a fingertip looking to find his (almost certainly virgin) arsehole. When my fingernail grazed his anus he jerked like he had had an electric shock, and his cock came out of my mouth. I licked along its length for a moment before it was my turn to be shocked--the boy behind me was trying to fuck my arse! O well... in for a penny, in for a pound.

I slipped my fingers into my pussy and then used the wetness to lubricate my arsehole, then tried to relax as best I could while I teased stubby's cock. When my finger next found his bum hole, I was wanking his cock furiously with just the head in my mouth and he exploded in me like he had never cum before. Gallons and gallons of the stuff in my mouth and dribbling over my chin while number four got into his stride fucking my arse. He leaned forward and grabbed my now tender tits. And for a teenager he had tremendous staying power. Everyone else was watching while he fucked me for the next ten minutes, finally thrusting balls deep in my arse and depositing a huge teenage load.

I fell forward onto the ground, half dressed and worse than disheveled now, I was exhausted. Utterly fucking knackered. I think I could hardly have moved another foot.

The lads went off to finish their game of golf, "Bye bye slut." Called Simon.

"See you soon."

Steve knelt down next to me, "Are you OK?"

"Half way between dead and fucking amazing." I said. "Take me home."

And he did. That day I didn't use the return half of my train ticket. Steve helped me back to the golf cart and then straight into his BMW. I dozed on the way back to Brighton, I was so tired. Steve helped me up to my flat. He made us both a cup of coffee.

"Thanks, Steve."

"For what?"

"Getting me home."

"Oh. You're welcome. It's the least I could do."

"You mean it's the least you could do after letting me get gang-banged by four lecherous eighteen year olds."

"Uh. Yea, that too."

"I could thank you for other stuff too."

"For what," asked Steve.

"Introducing me to the chairman's son. Teaching me the fundamentals." I smiled weakly.

"Well thank you Nicki. For everything. I could have lost my job if things had gone differently with Simon."

"Not really."

"What do you mean? The chairman would have sacked me if he'd known I was fucking you on the job."

"Well, that would have been pretty hypocritical."

"What? How do you mean?" Steve was confused.

"Remember when you put your head around the door to speak to the chairman about Mrs Fletcher this morning?"

"Yes..."

"Well, I was under the desk blowing him while you talked."