"Here's to Fun."

Bill, my boss, signed me up to play on the company team in an annual charity golf tournament. Nice guy, Bill. I mean, I get to skip work, play golf for free, eat two free meals, drink free beer, and still get paid for the day.

I show up at the course in the morning on the day of the tournament and sign in. Bill is standing by a sponsor tent, already smoking a cigar. When he sees me, he waves me over.

"Hey, Jim. Change of plans," he says. "I had to put Jody in the tournament at the last minute, and I'm playing with a state representative. So you're on Jody's team."

I shrug. "Okay, Bill." I've met Jody before. She's a perfectly nice woman, and she'll play from the women's tees, so if she can hit, it may even give us an advantage.

"She doesn't play very well," Bill continues. So much for an advantage. "But I don't have to tell you to treat her well."

"Of course, Bill," I say.

"Good man," he says, blowing some cigar smoke in my face.

Our team in total ends up with three people, as opposed to the typical foursome; one player is a no-show. The third guy is a young guy named Brad. Brad is 25, not long out of college, and already more successful than I can stomach, so I'm two beers in before we even start the course.

We do the introductions, and make some small talk. Brad's a Republican, so I grab three beers from the first cooler we find. It's going to be a long day.

The first thing I notice about Jody was her face. This is true of both when I first met her, and today when I see her again. Jody's in her late 50's or early 60's, with shoulder-length blonde hair, and probably was a straight-up fox when she was younger. Her face retains a youthful quality. She has crisp blue eyes with very few age lines. Her face is round, as are her cheeks, and she has fairly high cheek bones. She wears gold wire-rimmed glasses with oval frames, which only sets off this round quality. Jody has a killer smile, with thin lips (painted pink today) and perfectly aligned teeth.

What's different about today is that she's dressed to play. In times when I've seen Jody before, she'd be wearing office attire: slacks, blouse, etc. Today is hot, though, nearly 100 degrees fahrenheit, so Jody's wearing a short black skort and a plain white sleeveless shirt. This makes a few things evident to me that never were before. First, Jody's stacked. She can't be more than five and a half feet tall, but that shirt reveals that she's sporting what's probably a D-cup underneath. Second, age has not been as kind to the rest of her as to her face. She has a modest but noticeable spare tire above her wide hips. Her ass sags a bit, and she has cellulite thighs that are showing varicose veins. Her skin is pale, which brings out it's aged, mottled quality.

"It's good to see you again, Jim," Jody says. We're both smoking a cigarette, waiting for the tournament to start.

"You too, Jody. I don't think I've seen you since the Christmas party."

"That's right," she replies. "Look, I'm sorry Bill stuck me with you. I hope you aren't expecting to win anything today."

I just smile. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Jody. I'm just here to have fun."

She smiles too. "Good. Me too." She clinks my beer can with her margarita. "Here's to fun."

Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the near-excessive heat. Maybe I'm just a pervert. The longer we played, the sexier Jody became. I'd watch her stand over the ball, ass out, breasts hanging low, and feel my stomach do a little flip. After the first nine holes, her previously pale skin was bright red, especially on her shoulders. She was glistening with sweat, and I could feel my mouth watering. I'd watch her swing, shifting those wide hips back to front, her ass going taut on her follow-through. Her tits did a little bounce at the end of each swing.

"Shit," she muttered, watching her tee shot on the 10th hole curve and drop into a pond.

"I'm no pro," I tell her from the side of the tee box, "But it looks to me like you're pushing your hips to the front of your stance before you hit the ball."

"Jim," she begins, exasperated, "That kind of advice won't help me. Come show me."

I look at Brad. He's sitting in the cart dicking around on his Blackberry. Of course he is, because that's what he's been doing all day, taking only the occasional break to hit on the female volunteers in the snack carts. So I shrug and head out to the tee box with Jody. "Okay, look," I say, standing behind her. I put my hands on her hips. "Take another swing. I'll hold your hips still." She swings. I feel her hips move, but keep my arms stiff to inhibit their shifting. Speaking of stiff, my arms aren't the only part of me that are. But my body isn't that close to her, and I'm wearing boxer briefs, so it's not showing too much. I take a deep breath and ask, "How did that feel?"

"Strange," she says, shifting her weight and moving her hips a bit. "It's odd to move only a part of my body. I didn't realize my hips moved that much."

"Try it again," I tell her. "You know how to swing, so don't think about that. Focus on your hips." She swings again, and I catch a whiff of her, perfume and sweat. We need to end this lesson quickly. Fortunately, this swing is good. Her hips barely move. "Perfect," I tell her, stepping back. "Hit another ball."

She hits another ball and it's gorgeous: straight and long, landing in the center of the fairway. She turns around to face me, grinning. "That's great!" She kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you, Jim!"

We get back in the carts and proceed. I'm a bit flustered, and probably blushing. I open a beer and promptly finish it. Brad's oblivious.

We work toward finishing out the course. I watch Jody constantly: when she's swinging, when she's sitting in the cart, as she's taking a drink of water. As the afternoon wears on, she's sweating more, making her shirt increasingly transparent. And I'm drinking more, which only helps me focus on Jody, not on my golf game. Douchebag Brad is now riding in a cart by himself, as I agree to drive Jody's cart on the pretense that our shots typically land near each other. I spend too much time staring at her thighs, since her skort rides up while she's sitting.

I imagine myself at her feet, kissing them, and working my way up her legs with my mouth, kissing, nibbling, licking. As I come to her thighs, I linger there, running my hands over her generous hips and ass, sliding my face up just short of her panties, smelling her pussy and sweat commingling.

"Jim!" Jody shrieks, grabbing my knee and startling me out of my daydream. I swerve the cart to avoid hitting a small tree.

"Sorry," I say. "Too much to drink, I guess." Her hand is still on my knee, and my cock is so hard it hurts.

"It's all right," she says. "I was just startled."

We play out the 18th hole, say goodbye to Brad who's decided to leave early, and head into the banquet hall for the dinner and awards ceremony.

Of course, we aren't going to win anything. But we hadn't expected to. At dinner, I sit next to Jody. Bill is working the room, hobnobbing with people he thinks are important, but really are just bloated, middle-aged white guys who won't give him the time of day when they're not drunk. We eat the mediocre catered buffet. Before they start the awards, I stand and tell Jody I'm going to smoke a cigarette. "I'll join you," she says.

It's dusk, and it has gotten noticeably cooler outside. Jody is no longer soaked with sweat, which is probably a good thing for my psychosexual sanity. We sit together on a bench outside the front door, light our cigarettes, and sit for a few minutes quietly. Then Jody looks at me and says, "I noticed the way you were looking at me today."

Damnit. "I'm sorry, Jody. I honestly don't know what was in my head."

She smiles. "No, it's fine. Good, even. I'm flattered. Men don't look at me like that anymore."

"Not even Bill?" I ask.

"Especially not Bill," she sighs, turning away and exhaling a lungful of smoke. "It's not really the modern way of thinking, wanting to be... objectified," she continued, stumbling over the word, "But it's nice to know someone is looking."

I don't say anything for a few moments, pondering an appropriate response and watching my cigarette dwindle. "It's a damned shame for Bill," I finally reply as she puts out her cigarette.

She looks over at me again. "How so?"

"Jody, you are a vibrant, intelligent, sexy woman."

She blushes. "Oh really, Jim. Don't patronize me."

"I'm serious," I continue, honesty floating on a day's worth of beer. "I wasn't staring at you all day to patronize you. I was staring because I couldn't help myself." She turns away again, and we sit without speaking, listening to crickets chirp. "So," I finally say, "It's a damned shame for Bill. He doesn't appreciate you, but he's your husband, so it's not as if anyone else can truly treat you the way you deserve to be treated."

I start to stand, but Jody grabs my wrist. "You can, Jim."

"Excuse me?"

She pulls my hand over to her thigh and says, "You can treat me the way I deserve, Jim." With her other hand she cradles the back of my head and pull me in for a kiss. A long, slow, passionate kiss. For me, time stops for a moment.

When the kiss ends, we're sit there together. I can feel my heart thumping hard in my chest. "What do you want, Jody?"

She cups the side of my face with one had. "Just a wonderful end to a wonderful day," she says. "Just something to..." she pauses, then smiles coyly, "Just something to fill the void in my life." She slides her hand down my chest to my crotch, where it becomes physically evident that I want the same thing.

"Not here," is all I can think to say.

She stands and pulls me by the hand. "Follow me."

We re-enter the building quietly. The foyer and front hall are quiet, though we can hear the noise of the awards ceremony in the banquet hall. Jody walks briskly down a dark hallway to the left and I follow. She leads me through a door to the left at the back of the hall, a locker room. It's dark, and Jody's moving quickly, so I lose her for a second. "Jody?" I whisper.

"Back here," comes her reply. I follow the sound of her voice. In the back of the locker room is a row of sinks. On the opposite wall is a couch. Jody is standing next to it. She's already removed her shoes and shirt. I do the same, kicking off my shoes and peeling off my polo. She unclasps her bra, and sits on the couch. Her breasts lose much of their shape without their support, and sag to just above her belly. I kneel in front of her and slide off her skort and panties, revealing Jody in all her fleshy, wonderful glory. Her pubic hair is short, bunched in tight blonde curls. I immediately revert to my daydream, but skip straight to her thighs. "Jim," she says. I look up over her belly and tits to her face. "I appreciate the thought, but we don't have much time."

"Right," I answer, standing and dropping my shorts and underwear. "Then you're on top," I say. I sit down on the couch next to her.

"Really?" she asks.

"I've been looking at you all day," I say. "I want to be able to see you."

She smiles, then stands and turns to face me. She stands over me, straddling me as I look at her pussy, wishing we had more time for foreplay. She kneels slowly on the couch. I'm so hard and she's so wet, I slide into her with no help. She slides all the way down, and I feel the head of my cock hit the base of her cervix. "Ohhhh," I groan.

"Shhh!" she chides me as she begins to bounce. It catches me off guard, as I was expecting her to grind. Not that I don't enjoy watching her tits and belly bounce, but she's clearly having trouble establishing a rhythm.

"Jody," I whisper, "Lean forward. Then just move your hips back and forth."

"Oh you with the hips!" she whispers back, but complies. She braces her upper body by placing her hands on either side of my head on the back of the couch, then begins to grind. "Oh! That is better!" Better because her clit is now getting friction as well. Jody gets herself into a good rhythm. I keep my eyes open, watching her breasts swing in front of my face. Her nipples are large and erect. I grab her tits from each side, and take her nipples in my mouth one at a time, giving each a nice long suck and tongue tease. "Ah!" she whisper-gasps on the first one, followed by a long, "Mmmmm," purr.

Jody increases the speed of her grinding, and pushes down harder on each backward thrust, driving my cock as deep as she can. She's panting now, trying to remain quiet. She loses her balance and falls on me, burying my face in luscious, sweaty breasts. I take over, grabbing her ass and thrusting my dick into her while pushing her hips and ass down on me. A few moments more and Jody cries, "Oh god! Ohhh-hh-hh yes!" So much for being quiet. Jody squirts. Not much, but I feel the walls of her pussy tighten as she cums, and a small gush of wetness runs down over my balls.

That does it for me. "Oh f-fuck!" I gasp, managing to remain quieter than she. I cum inside her, but keep fucking for a few seconds, then relax, feeling that one last tiny surge of cum.

Jody sits more upright on me, and I feel our mixed juices running down over my crotch. She leans forward and kisses me deeply, like before. Then she climbs off of me and, without saying a word, proceeds to clean herself up and dress herself. I follow the cue. Time to get back to the awards ceremony.

Jody's made it back to the table before I do. I enter the room quietly, not that it would matter with the noise in the room. I sit down next to her. She has a glass of white wine, and I notice there's one at my seat too. When the awards ceremony has concluded, Bill walks over to the table. "Did you win anything?" he asks us.

"No," answers Jody. "But Jim and I were just here to have some fun."

Bill chuckles. "Well, did you have fun?"

Without batting an eye, Jody turns to look at me and asks, "Jim, did you have fun?"

I smile. "Absolutely," I reply, picking up my glass of wine.

She smiles too. "Good. Me too." She clinks her wine glass against mine. "Here's to fun."