The Beverage Cart Girl

She rolled up on to the seventh hole and smiled. “Do you need anything?” -he cheerfully asked. She was cute, with her tight, light blue shorts, and a tight-fitting t-shirt. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. Her name tag read 'Brandy' and was strategically placed on her t-shirt so that it stood out.

“A cigar, a brandy and something sweet,” I replied.

“I have beer and cokes, no brandy,” she cheerfully replied. She stepped from the cart and opened a small compartment. It was full of cigars of varying sizes and shapes. Her shorts rode high on her bubble-butt and almost immediately, any thoughts I had of having a good golf day, vanished before my eyes, as I eyed her cute ass. Her long legs were well tanned and toned. She stood about 5’3 to 5’4.

She turned and asked, “Do you have a preference?”

I’m sure she thought I was a total idiot, because it took me a moment for me to refocus and respond. I grabbed a cigar and looked at it, while she opened another compartment, tip-toeing to reach it. Her shorts couldn’t get any tighter or higher on her cute ass.

“I’m sorry,” she remarked, “The door is stuck.”

“That’s OK,” I responded, reaching over and pulling the compartment door open. I grabbed a candy bar and a bag of peanuts.

I fished a beer from the cold storage compartment.

“How much do I owe you” I asked.

I watched as Bandy added up the numbers in her head. “Twenty nine dollars,” Brandy replied.

I fished out two twenties and handed them to her. She dug through a money pouch for the change.

“Keep it,” I remarked.

“Are you sure?” Brandy asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “You go to school right?”

“Yes,” Brandy replied. “I just entered the community college.”

Brandy was nineteen and said she planned on being a business major. She asked what I did for work and I said that I was a part time fiction writer and an English instructor at the college.

“Oh wow!” she exclaimed. “Do you tutor?”

“Not normally,” I responded, “But if you needed tutoring, I’d certainly figure out a way to make it happen.”

Brandy twirled a finger in her long blonde hair and smiled. Her mischievous look and provocative finger twirl in her hair caught my attention.

“What’s your name?” Brandy asked.

“Ian,” I replied. “Ian Tompkins.”

“Cool,” Brandy replied. “I’m Brandy.”

Another golf cart approached us on the cart path. “Maybe, I’ll see you on the back nine,” she remarked the cart pulled up and stopped.

“I’ll look for you,” I replied, giving her a wink.

I finished up the front nine about three over par. I couldn’t get Brandy out of my mind. I stopped by the club house before going back out on the back nine. I was getting into my cart, when Brandy pulled up next to me.

“How did you do?” She cheerfully inquired.

“I suck,” I painfully admitted.

Brandy smiled. “Well, the back nine is easy,” she remarked, “I’ll see you on the course.”

There was something about her smile and the way she looked at me that made me feel very special. I had run across flirtatious beverage cart girls before, but none quite like Brandy.

I teed off on ten and my ball skewered right and over some trees. I found it pretty easily and was back on course very quickly. I managed the hole at one over par. On eleven, I hooked another t-box shot. I scoured the tall grass and managed to hit the green on the next shot. I had a long putt of about thirty feet. I walked to the hole and back to where my ball was positioned on the edge of the green. I lowered my head and putted. I watched as the ball rolled way left of the hole, then curved slightly back to the right, then slowed some more, then suddenly- ga-plunk! It went in the hole. It was an awesome putt and I pretended like I had just won the Masters, silently celebrating with a fist pump.

I looked up and Brandy was stationed in her cart, overlooking the green.

“Not a bad putt,” she remarked as I retrieved my ball from the hole.

“Do you play?” I asked, walking in her direction.

“No,” Brandy replied. “No one has ever taken the time to show me how.”

“Really?” I replied. “I can show you.”

“How much would you charge?” Brandy asked.

“For you, “ I replied, “I think we could work out a deal.”

Brandy smiled and once again, she twirled a finger in her hair as we spoke.

“I don’t make much money,” Brandy replied. “Seven fifty and hour plus tips.”

“We can work the details out later,” I replied. “What time do you get off work?”

“Two thirty,” Brandy replied. I looked at my watch. It was two fifteen.

“I’ll tell you what,” I remarked, “I still have a few holes to go, but how about if we meet on sixteen, and you can help me finish off the last three holes.”

Brandy smiled and agreed to meet up on sixteen. She drove off and I teed up for my next big challenge.

“Whack!”

I couldn’t concentrate. I hooked my shot, big time. By the time I got to the sixteenth , I was really frazzled, thinking about the possibilities of teeing up with the beverage cart girl.

I waited under a shade tree at the t-box on sixteen. Within a few minutes, Brandy rolled up next to me, in her own golf cart.

“I’m ready,” she cheerfully declared as she pulled up next to me. I took out two drivers and showed her how to hit the ball.

“It looks easy,” I said, “but harder to do.”

After driving my ball off the “t”, I handed a “t” and a ball to Brandy. She bent over and placed her ball on the “t”. My mind froze, as her shorts tightened against her butt when she bent over. She gingerly placed the ball on the “t” and lined up to hit.

“Swoosh!” She missed. She stepped back and giggled.

“Take your time,” I replied.

She lined the club up with the ball, drew it back and then “Thud!” The cub head hit the ground and dirty flew everywhere. The ball fell of it perch atop the “t”.

“Well shit!” she exclaimed, taking a step back.

I stepped on the “t” box.

“Let me show you,” I said.

“First of all,” I remarked, “Foot placement is important.”

I placed my hands on her hips and showed her how to line up her feet.

The I stood directly behind her, her butt pressing against my crotch, and placed my arms around hers, to show her how to hold the club. She playfully wiggled her ass back and forth, brushing it against my crotch as I leaned forward to show her how to hold the club.

“Behave,” I respectfully told her as she playfully pushed her butt against my crotch.

“You know you like it,” Brandy teasingly replied.

I showed her how to swing the club, in slow motion. The close proximity of our bodies, pressing against each other, was more than I could stand. I was pretty sure she could very easily notice my arousal. I took a step back.

Swoosh! WHACK!

I watched as the ball veered left and into some woods.

Brandy jumped up and down. “I hit it! I hit it!” she excitedly exclaimed.

“Yes you did!” I replied. “Now, let’s go find it.”

Brandy followed me in my cart as we headed into the wooded area. I stopped along the well worn trail that meandered through the wooded area. The weeds were about three feet high. I stopped my cart and got out to look around. Brandy did the same.

After a few minutes of searching, I sat down on the seat of my cart. Brandy slid on to the bench seat, next to me.

“What now?” she asked.

“Well,” I said . . . pausing as I tried to think of a way to advantage of seclusion the wooded area offered.

“We have to wait for the golf police,” I remarked. Brandy looked at me, confused.

“The golf police?” she inquired.

“Yes, the golf police,” I affirmed.

Brandy was totally confused.

I put my hand on her bare thigh, and patted it.

“Don’t worry,” I remarked, “I’ll take care of the fine.”

“Fine? What fine?” Brandy asked, sounding worried.

“You didn’t know there was a fine for hitting your ball into the woods?” I asked. Brandy looked shocked. I was amused by her gullibility.

“Can we negotiate our way out of the fine?” Brandy pressed.

“Well,” I replied, “that depends on how skilled a negotiator we are.”

I slipped my fingers to the inside of Brandy’s thigh as I continued to talk. She parted her legs slightly and I could tell she was getting turned on. Brandy looked at me and smiled.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” she jabbed.

“Yes, I am,” I admitted.

She poked me in my ribs with a finger.

“You are so fucking naughty!” Brandy retorted. “You had me going!”

I placed my hands on her ribs to tickle her. She shrieked and jumped as I pushed my fingers into her ribs. She attempted to tickle me back, but I quickly grabbed her wrists and we playfully struggled for a few seconds. I let go of her wrists.

“OK, OK, OK,” Brandy fired off in rapid succession, “You got me!”

Then, she reached behind her head and pulled the rubber band from her pony tail. She ran her fingers through her hair and allowed it to fall over her shoulders, as she shook her head back and forth. She looked at me and smiled. She silently placed a lone finger over her pursed lips while looking around. Then, without saying a word, she pulled her t-shirt over her head, her 36-c cup breasts spilling out, her nipples standing perky, on the end of her perfectly shaped globes.

I placed my hands directly on her breasts and pinched her nipples with my thumb and a forefinger. Brandy reached for my crotch and felt my erection through the fabric of my Bermuda shorts. I stretched out my legs over the front of the cart and unzipped my shorts. Brandy dug past my underwear and grabbed my cock, pulling it out as I pushed my underwear down.

Without saying a word, she bent over and placed my eight inch thick steel rod into her sweet little mouth. I thought for sure, I would explode right then and there.

She sucked and kissed my cock, and as she did, in the shade of that wooded area, I knew instinctively my golf game for that day, was over. After a few minutes of joyful pleasure, Brandy arched her back and pulled off her shorts. She was “commando” and she was completely shaven. Her pussy glistened with moisture.

She stepped over my outstretched legs and put her knees on the bench seat on either side of my pelvis, facing me. She hovered over my cock, taking it in her hand and playfully rubbing it against her hooded clit. She worked it back and forth along the sides of her vagina, as she intently stared into my eyes biting down on her lower lip. I placed my hands on to her breasts and pinched her erect nipples. She let out a soft moan of approval.

Brandy looked up at the roof of our golf cart, as she slowly slid my cock inside of her tight, warm and very moist pussy. The walls of her pussy clamped down on the shaft of my manhood, like a vice. She pushed down until our pelvis’ crashed into one another, my cock buried deep in her love box. Brandy gyrated her hips back and forth, slowly and rhythmically, placing her hands on my chest. Her finger nails scratched at my chest. She moaned and grunted as she ground her pelvis against mine.

In the not too far distance, I could hear people talking. Brandy placed her finger over her pursed lips, even as she continued to rock back and forth. We were barely off the cart trail and I prayed no one would venture our way. A cart approached the wooded area and I heard a guy remark as it slowed,

“No, it went farther than this.”

The cart continued on.

Brandy leaned forward and our lips met in a soft kiss. Suddenly, she thrust her tongue into my mouth and I exploded deep inside of her. My explosion set off a chain reaction, as Brandy tensed up and shook.

Suddenly I was awash in a combination of cum and her body fluids.

Brandy placed her head on my shoulder and locked her arms around my neck. She pressed her tight little body against mine, trembling. We kissed for a few more minutes before my involuntary withdrawal took place.

“Oh no!” Brandy whispered as I slipped out of her.

I grabbed a towel from my golf bag and we used it to clean up. Brandy slipped her shorts back on as I did the same. She slipped her t-shirt back over her luscious boobs as I pulled my polo shirt over my head.

“What now?” Brandy asked.

“Well, my golf game is shot,” I replied. I stepped on the gas pedal and we bounced out of the wooded area and back out on to the long, neatly mowed fairway, leaving the other cart in the woods.

“How about a beer at the club house?” I asked.

“I am not old enough to drink,” Brandy reminded me. “But... ”

She stopped mid-sentence and then added, “If you want, we can share a beer at my apartment and you can show me how to play golf on my “golf buddy” computer program.”

“Golf buddy?”

Brandy smiled. “Yeah, there is even a golf policeman on the program.”

I had to laugh.