Eighteen Holes

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Eighteen Holes (part one of several)

They were the final weeks of my last real summer. I had just turned eighteen and was ready to start back up for my senior year at the local high school. Next summer would mean off to college and a whole new life.

I worked at the local mini-golf course — a ‘family entertainment zone’ as they called it. We had batting cages, bumper boats and an arcade full of video games besides our two separate mini-golf courses. I worked outside, at the booth that handled the bats and helmets for the batting cages and also controlled the bumper boats. I had always wished that I could work inside — and not just because of the air conditioning, but because way more of the girls my age spent time inside the arcade and at the snackbar.

Out where I worked it was mostly little kids on the bumper boats, or guys working on their swing for Pony League. Sure, there would be the occasional team of semi-cute softball girls in the batting cages, but mostly it was a sausage party outside — and blazing hot to boot. Man I wished I could work inside with the cool air and some high school girls to check out.

Most of my job was easy, I was always a smart kid and organizing the batting helmets by size and remembering how long the bumper boats had been out was not a problem. I had plenty of time to chill and daydream. Once, I had even snuck off to the boat repair shed and jacked off when I was supposed to be working. When I was 18, it wouldn’t take me long at all to cum.

And jacking off was about all the sexual experience I had. I had been out on some dates and ‘made out.’ Patty Ciccilini had even dry humped her tight jeans against my throbbing cock (for about 15 seconds) — but that was as close as I had come to sex. Patty had mumbled something about how ‘huge’ my dick was as she scrambled out of the car in front of her parents house, but I was too bummed about her leaving to understand what she meant.

Later on, I figured out that I did have a pretty large dick. I checked out porn on the internet, and as near as I could tell my cock, especially when it was hard, was well above average. Rather than cheering me up, this left me feeling like a freak. Why else would the one girl who seriously made out with me run away when she felt it? Turns out, that night Patty was worried that her sister had seen us in the parked car on her street and she panicked, and her leaving so abruptly had nothing to do with me – but I didn’t know that at the time.

In retrospect, the knowledge of my endowment should have made me confident and happy, but I was too shy and socially awkward to do anything but think that I was the one who was, or had done something, wrong.

Back to my job at the mini-golf place. One August evening, it was nearing our nine o-clock closing time when two girls from my school showed up and wanted to go out in the bumper boats — two of the hottest girls in the senior class. Laurel and Alex (short for Alexandra) were BFFs and two of the snootiest girls at the whole school. It was odd that they were interested in the bumper boats at all — since most girls didn’t like crashing into each other as much as the boys do. Plus, it was late so they would be the only two ones on the small ‘lake.’ Bumper boats are usually more popular when there are a dozen people out there all bumping and banging.

Anyway, my curiosity over their motives faded as I saw what they were wearing. Laurel had on a very short skirt — a tartan school girl kind of thing that was fastened with a super-sized punk rock safety pin. She had very tan legs and a pair of flimsy flip-flops that showed off her toes and her ‘bad girl’ black nail polish. Alex was wearing a pair of low-rise jeans and a form-fitting top that left a gap of soft, bare skin in between and her underwear visible in the back. Alex’s chest was bigger than Laurel’s — her full breasts straining against her bra and bursa escort slightly too-small t-shirt.

I was busy staring at them when my boss (a goofy college aged guy who thought he was ‘kewl’) came by to let me know that the bumper boats all needed to be put away in the service area that night. This was a total pain, and meant I would be there even later. I was inclined to tell Alex and Laurel that I had to close down the boats, but then something else happened.

Alex’s mother, Mrs. Dixon, came up and asked me if the girls could still ride the boats. Mrs. Dixon was only an inch or two taller than her daughter and in very good shape. Mrs. Dixon wore those form fitting yoga pants that suburban moms favor as they run to Pilates in the hopes of keeping their husbands interested after a couple of kids. Mrs. Dixon had no trouble there — she looked great and had a very different vibe from the two 18 year olds.

Mrs. Dixon came up to the counter where I was and leaned in close — her layered tank-tops revealing that her daughter’s chest was no accident. The 40 year old (or close enough) urged me to let her daughter and friend ride the bumper boats — flashing a seductive smile. I was in way over my head — no woman had ever flirted like this with me. She was just doing it to get what she wanted — but teenage girls (as cute as they were) didn’t know how to work their ‘charms’ like Mrs. Dixon.

“You’ll let Alex and Laurel ride in the boats, won’t you?” she practically cooed in my ear.

I nodded, literally unable to form words or to deny Mrs. Dixon what she wanted. I stumbled out from around the counter and opened the little gate so that the two girls could get to the low dock where the bumper boats were tied up. Laurel’s tiny skirt flipped up a bit as she passed by me — giggling and smiling. I caught a glimpse of the curve of her ass atop her smooth thighs. Mrs. Dixon watched as I gave them the short safety spiel and started the engines on the two bumper boats. Both girls were laughing at something I didn’t quite understand — but I wanted to get this over as quickly as possible so I just hurried on.

I closed the gate and the two girls started piloting the motorized boats (really just inboard engines inside inner-tubes with a seat attached) around the tiny body of water. Alex and Laurel shrieked and yelled with each splash as I headed back towards the safety of my booth.

As I walked towards the booth and Mrs. Dixon, I realized why the girls were laughing. Mrs. Dixon was staring at my shorts with a wicked smile on her face. I was too young then to know what that smile truly meant, but I peeked down and saw that my cock was more than half-way hard. The shaft was pointed down the left leg of my shorts, but the material was too thin to keep my rod in place and the hard-on was painfully obvious. I kept my head down and passed Mrs. Dixon as I scampered behind the bulge hiding counter. She never took her eyes off me as I moved — her gaze locked on my face with a bold smile. No girl my age ever looked at me like that — and that only made the ‘problem’ in my pants more of an issue.

Behind the counter I took some deep breaths — hoping against hope that the pole in my shorts would go down. I was mortified — two of the hottest girls in school and a grown woman had seen me get an uncontrollable hard-on in public. I could only watch the timer for the bumper boats — because when it ran all the way down, I would have to go back out there again. I prayed for time to stretch out so that my cock would deflate. I half-way considered quickly jacking off to relieve the issue, but Mrs. Dixon was right there in front of me — leaning against the railing as she watched Alex and Laurel speed around in the boats and bounce off the walls.

Mrs. Dixon’s hips and ass were definitely on display and I admired the sculpted curves for a moment — but that wasn’t going to help bursa escort bayan my erection go away. Behind the counter, I took my hard cock and adjusted it — making the shaft stand straight up and down — hoping the waistband of my shorts would at least keep the aching head of my cock pinned to my body and minimize the ‘tent show’ I was putting on. Mrs. Dixon even caught me looking at her ass as I made the adjustment — staring back with that same wicked smile. I understand now that the look might be called ‘hunger’ — but I was too caught up in my own adolescent ‘shame’ to grasp that.

I let the girl’s stay out in the boats a little longer — giving myself as much time as possible. I also snuck out the side of the booth, around through the service area to get to the dock — thus avoiding Mrs. Dixon and her stare. On the dock I waved Laurel and Alex in and tied up their boats. Both girls stared at my shorts as they got out of the boat and I saw that Alex’s shirt had gotten a bit wet — making my hard prick throb even more. The girls gave one last synchronized giggle and headed towards Mrs. Dixon. The girls barely slowed down and moved past the woman towards the main building and the snack bar and arcade that would still be open for another hour.

Mrs. Dixon lingered behind — dangling a twenty dollar bill between her manicured fingers — waiting to pay for the bumper boat rides. I was in no man’s land and had to cross the walkway towards my booth and move right past Mrs. Dixon. My red ‘fun zone’ shirt was nowhere near long enough to cover the bulge and I felt so exposed. I glanced around the empty area of the batting cages, glad that no one else was around to see my embarrassment. I moved quickly behind the counter and turned to face Mrs. Dixon — determined to put on a ‘professional’ air despite the throbbing prick threatening to jut out of my pants.

“Two rides is eight dollars …” I said, but Mrs. Dixon had moved around the side of the booth. She was out of sight and I was utterly confused. I moved out the side door of the booth to follow her, but the I stopped short.

Mrs. Dixon was right there outside the door. I almost ran into her as she pushed me back against the side of the booth. Her breasts pressed against my body and she leaned in close — looking up at me as she smiled again. My height made her have to crane her neck to see my face — but it was very clear she was in charge.

“Was it my daughter that gave you this hard-on?” she asked. I shook my head ‘no’ — my voice lost in the insistent thundering of the blood in my shaft.

“Her friend?” Again I shook my head. Mrs. Dixon extended her hand and placed one palm flat against my belly.

Her fingers edged down my abdomen — inching closer to the head of my cock. She pulled up the front of my shirt and there was the tip of my cock — just at the top of my shorts.

“Oh. That looks cramped in there,” said Mrs. Dixon as she reached down. I flinched as she grabbed my shorts at the hips and slid them down. My prick levered out from my body as the shorts and my boxers skimmed down my shaking thighs.

Mrs. Dixon gasped as she saw the full length of my cock. I must have gasped as well, but my head was already a bit fuzzy at this point. She looked left and right quickly as she wrapped her warm, soft hand around my cock. My head swarmed with a million bees. It felt so good, I could barely stand up.

“Honey, you are huge,” she whispered as she dropped her purse to have two free hands to wrap around my shaft. An inch or two plus the head still stuck out from her fists as she pumped me up and down. I spread my feet as much as I could inside my tangled shorts and leaned back against the wall — all my inhibitions and fears gone. I no longer cared that I was at work, or in public — I only wanted to revel in the feel of her skin on my rock hard dick.

Mrs. Dixon’s breath came in ragged escort bursa gulps as she stopped jacking me for a moment to look at my cock. Without dragging her eyes away from the pulsing head of my prick she pulled my shirt off over my head and dropped it on the ground. I was now naked from the knees up and she ran her hands over my flat torso and down to the sparse hairs at the base of my dick. Since my shorts were not un-zipped — I couldn’t have taken a step if I had wanted to.

My eyes closed of their own accord as she dragged her finger tips across the sensitive skin of my balls — making my cock drool out a stream of clear pre-cum. She groaned as she scooped up some of the leakage and placed her damp finger into her mouth.

“You know I would suck your cock, if I didn’t have to go inside and see all those people,” and she squeezed the shaft again until the head of my prick was so hard it hurt. “We don’t wanna mess up my make-up, now do we?”

“I heard Laurel talking about this thing, but I thought she was just being immature,” Mrs. Dixon ribbed her thumb along the underside of the head of my prick — sending electric bolts through my body. The meaning of her words, that Laurel and Alex had discussed my cock (and before tonight), was almost too much for my overloaded brain to process. That those words had made the sexy Mrs. Dixon want to see for herself was beyond my understanding.

I hadn’t even said a word, and here I was with my cock in this older woman’s hand — and about to come at any minute. I mumbled and groaned as Mrs. Dixon gave me a couple of loose strokes — sliding the skin of my cock over the rock-hard core.

Mrs. Dixon’s chest was flushed above her tank top as she pressed her soft tits against my arm. That one more bit of sexual stimulus added to the sensation in my cock. The pre-cum from my shaft was now a steady drip. “Ooh,” she said, “I can’t wait to get this thing inside my pussy. It makes me so wet…”

That was it! The thought of my cock fucking Mrs. Dixon… Her tight ass riding up and down on my shaft … Her grip on me right now …

I exploded in a massive cum shot. Spurt after spurt erupted from the head of my shaft as Mrs. Dixon kept up her slow, sensual pumping. My shoulders hunched forward as the ejaculation seemed to surge up from my toes and race through my body like a wave of electricity. Mrs. Dixon continued to stroke my cock — pumping out spurt after spurt of cum. My eyelids fluttered as my mind closed down.

Her fingers gripped my cock — soaked with my own juices. Mrs. Dixon was staring at the tip of my prick — her mouth open as she panted in time with the last contractions of my balls.

“Ohh, honey. That was incredible.” She pumped me one last time and it was too much — and I moved my hips away. My dick was suddenly too sensitive to touch.

I looked down and laughed. I had sprayed several ropes of cum all over Mrs. Dixon’s purse as it sat there on the concrete. It was her fault, she had been aiming the damn thing. She smirked and picked my work shirt up off the ground and used that to wipe the jizz off her purse.

“You think that’s funny, do you? Let’s hope you didn’t get any inside,” she said as she used the shirt to dry off her hands. She smiled as she tossed the shirt at me, “But now I have to go.”

I quickly pulled up my shorts — fumbling and stumbling with the tangle of waistbands and damp fabric. By the time I looked around — Mrs. Dixon was headed down the walkway and towards the main arcade building. Her form fitting yoga pants accentuated every sway in her hips. I realized I was shirtless and ducked inside the booth to put on my own shirt, the one I had worn to work. The cum-stained work shirt would be going home and into my laundry.

Later, as I worked on the far side of the ‘lake’ bringing the bumper boats into the service area, headlights raked over me. A dark luxury SUV, like the one Mrs. Dixon drove, was turning to pull out of the driveway. Was it my imagination, or did the vehicle slow for a moment as the headlights illuminated my body. Before I could see who was inside, the SUV was gone, at least for now.

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