Henry Pembroke had joined the country club primarily for business, but his sixteen-year-old daughter’s trying out for her high school golf team rekindled his interest in the sport.

He read the golf instruction books, watched a few videos, and even took a lesson with the club pro, Vic Rudd.

“You’ve got the body for it,” Vic told Henry after watching him hit a few balls, “but you’re too stiff. You’re thinking instead of doing. A golf swing’s got to be fluid—natural, not herky-jerky.” Vic took the five iron from Henry’s hands and effortlessly smacked the ball high and far, straight and true.

“It’s like making love,” Vic said. “Too much thinking ruins it. You don’t go, ‘Now I’m gonna nibble her ear. Now I’ve got to rub her clitty. Now I need to push my prick into her pussy.’ Nothing good can come of that.” He handed the club back to Henry.

Henry tried to swing with grace and thoughtlessness. The ball dribbled off the mat.

Vic chuckled. “Of course you need to know how to stroke her breasts and whisper naughty stuff in her ear while you fuck her. I’ve got some drills you can work on.”

In the locker room after the lesson, Vic mentioned he’d seen Henry play a round with his daughter. “She looks like a natural,” Vic said. “You should send her my way. I could give her a few pointers.”

After thinking about it, Henry signed Jill up for a lesson with Alicia, the woman pro. He rationalized that a woman would be better attuned to a girl’s golfing needs.

A week later, after Jill’s first session, Henry asked his daughter how it went. “Did Alicia teach you anything new and exciting?”

Jill turned a deep scarlet.

Henry mirrored her blush.