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Message-ID: <30635asstr$991753802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Mmtwassel@aol.com (Mat Twassel)
Reply-To: Mmtwassel@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} <Dulcinea> The Open  (MF Rom Cons) by Mat Twassel
Date: Tue,  5 Jun 2001 11:10:02 -0400
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The Open  (MF Rom Cons 756 words)
by Mat Twassel (Mmtwassel@aol.com)

=============================================

They met on the grassy mound just beyond the 18th 
green.  It was the last day of a little local 
tournament, and she was sitting there on the grass 
next to her girl friends watching all the cute 
golfers play the final hole, and he overcooked a 
gap wedge.  The ball hit the back of the green and 
popped up into the air and landed right in the lap 
of her bright red frock. 

"What do I do now?" she asked her girl friends, and 
they said don't touch it, it's illegal, so she just 
sat there and waited for him to come up.  He was 
grinning at her, maybe embarrassed, or maybe like 
he'd planned the whole thing, and after giving the 
situation just a moment's study,  he said, "Don't 
worry, I was born to make this shot."

She wasn't sure if she should close her eyes, but she 
decided to trust him, and the next thing she knew there 
was this sweet little click, and the ball  was scooting 
along that smooth green grass, gathering speed, and 
then, plop! straight into the hole.  "See?" he said, 
smiling at her, and for some reason he helped her to 
her feet and they were hugging.

That was two years ago and now he was practicing his 
putts on the hotel carpet on the eve of the Open's 
final round.  He was one shot off the lead.  "Looking 
good," she told him.

"I don't know," he said.  "It's these little ones that 
make me nervous.  These three and four footers.  I'm 
okay here, but out there I don't know.  I have the 
feeling I'm going to mess up tomorrow. Those greens are 
so fast and slippery."

"Maybe I can help," she said. "Maybe I'll wear that 
lucky red frock."

He looked doubtful.

"Maybe I won't wear any panties on under it."

He gave her a look.  "I don't see how that would..."

Before he could finish his sentence, she'd stepped out 
of her jeans and shucked her panties and sat down on 
the hotel carpet with her legs spread.  "Okay," she 
said, "Here's your target."

He cocked his head and gave her a puzzled look.

"Come on, whatcha waiting for?  Putt for my pussy. Roll 
it right into my hot little hole."

He laughed but he did as she asked.  The ball rolled 
straight and true, bumping her bare pussy lips dead 
center.  

"Hey," he said.

"Hey," she answered.  "Nice putt."  Then she picked up 
the ball, gave it a little kiss, and rolled it back at 
him.  "Do it again," she said, "Just a little firmer."

He did it again, a little firmer.  Dead center.

"Perfect," she said.  Again she touched the ball to her 
lips.  But this time, before rolling it back to him, 
she touched the ball to her clit.

"You got juice on it," he said.

"Just putt."

"I'm all stiff," he complained.  "My caddie would laugh 
his head off if I putted this way."

"No excuses. Forget your caddie.  Forget everything.  
Just concentrate on the hole.  See how it's opening for 
you?  See how open it is, how wide wide open, all for 
you?  Mmm, it wants you so much.  It really does. Roll 
it right in here, sweetie.  Come on, baby.  Roll it. 
Roll it right into my hot wet cunt."

Slowly he took the putter blade back.  Smoothly he 
stroked it through. Again the ball rolled straight and 
true. Again it bumped between those bare pussy lips.

"Mmm, yes," she purred, nuzzling the ball between her 
puffy lips, easing it against the quick of her hole, 
rubbing it up under her pudgy clit, then rolling it 
back at him. "Yes, I think you've got it, but just to 
make sure, we're going to practice for a while longer. 
Hit it again."  

"Oh, sweetie," she sighed.  It was the next night.  She 
was snug in his embrace.  He was in her so deep, his 
big cock so smooth and deep and strong, driving her to 
the sweet edge of ecstasy and beyond.  "Oh, sweet sweet 
baby," she crooned, "You are so fucking good.  So 
fucking fucking good."  She cupped his ass and spread 
her legs even more.

"Mm," he said, smiling at her, fucking her straight and 
true.  "Mmm, mmm, mmmmmmm," he hummed, fucking her 
harder, filling her with everything he had.  "I was 
born to make this stroke."

When they came, the whole room rattled, and on the 
night stand the Open Cup trembled itself right over the 
edge.

=============================================
The Open  

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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