Three Hole Golf Tournament

Karen and I had both entered the Charity Three Hole Tournament. It was a joke the men made up, but we played along for the attention. The tournament was tailor-made for three-hole whores like us, and we embraced the title with a wicked grin. We’d married rich, enjoying an incredible life of luxury without ever wanting for anything--except for someone else’s cock and the thrills that came with it.

“Honestly, Holly,” Karen purred, teasing me with her poolside tan and her latest younger lover in tow. “I heard you’ve been practicing your swing with Tom the gardener again.” She sipped her expensive scotch, her eyes glittering with amusement. “I’m impressed you can still find time to fit him in, considering how often you’re under Mark’s nine iron.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Jealous, Karen? I know how much you love having the greenest fairway on the block.” I sipped my own drink, enjoying the way it burned my throat. “Besides, variety is the spice of life, isn’t that what they say?”

Karen arched an eyebrow. “Only for those who need it.” She shot a glance at her latest conquest, a strapping young caddy from the local club. “But if you’re bored with your usual haunts, feel free to play a round with Jake here. I’m sure he’d be more than up for the challenge.”

I raised my glass in a mock toast. “Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer my men with a bit more ... experience.” I winked at her, and Karen’s cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

We’d been fucking each other’s husbands and lovers for years, all in the name of friendly competition. It was a game we both excelled at, and it added a certain spice to our otherwise mundane lives. Neither of us would admit it, but the thrill of the chase, of stealing away a conquest from the other, was intoxicating.

As the day of the Three Hole Challenge approached, we both upped our games in preparation. I practiced my swing each day, blissfully unaware that Karen was doing the same. We’d always been competitive, but this year, it felt different. There was something in the way she brushed against me at the clubhouse or the way her eyes lingered just a bit too long on my cleavage. I could swear she was after more than just the charity purse.

Finally, the day of the competition arrived. The course lay before us, lush and inviting. The sun beat down mercilessly, causing our already-revealing golf attire to cling to our sweat-drenched skin.

“Let’s tee it up, Karen,” I purred, unable to keep the excitement from my voice as we approached the first hole. “Winner gets to pick the first hole to play.”

Karen smirked, her emerald eyes sparkling with desire and trepidation. “You’re on, Holly. May the best wh— I mean, golfer, win.”

Karen teed off first, her body twisting in a sinuous motion as she put all her considerable power into the ball. It soared through the air, landing mere inches from the hole. The crowd gasped in awe, but I knew better than to underestimate her prowess on the green.

My turn. I took a deep breath, letting my breathing calm my racing heart. The heat, the competition, and the knowledge of what was at stake had me more worked up than any round of golf I’d ever played. I addressed the ball, lining up my shot with the laser-like precision that had earned me my title. Here goes nothing, I thought, and swung.

My ball sailed through the air, coming to rest just a hair’s breadth from the hole, a low whistle escaping my lips as it landed. It was going to be a tight match.

Throughout the game, our banter grew more and more suggestive, each little miss-hit or well-played shot fueled by our rivalry and need to dominate one another by any means possible. This would be fun! But it would also be twisted.

As I adjusted the brim of my visor, the Florida sun beats down on the manicured greens of The Villages, where privilege and play intertwine in a dance of leisure and luxury. I’m standing on the first tee box, my heart pounding with anticipation and adrenaline. Today is the day of the infamous Charity Three Hole Challenge, and my best frenemy, Karen Blackwood, is strutting towards me with the confidence of a lioness stalking her prey.

The tournament is unofficial, but almost everyone at the country club knows about it. It’s been an unofficial tradition for years.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Ms. “Big Tits” Chambers,” she drawls, her emerald eyes dancing with mischief. “Are those your real assets, or do you have a 9-iron stuffed in your skirt?”

“Careful there, Karen,” I purred, running a manicured nail down my collarbone. “You know how jealous your husband gets when other women ask about his clubs.” I gave her a coy wink, hiding my amusement as her cheeks flushed ever so slightly.

The Charity Three Hole Challenge was a stroke of genius, pun intended, devised by the bored housewives of The Villages. The rules were simple: each hole represented a hole to be claimed—mouth, asshole, or pussy. Our wealthy husbands owned the country club and greased whatever palms needed to be greased to allow us to get away with it.

The woman who lost three holes of golf would forfeit her dignity, riding around the retirement community in a golf cart adorned with a cardboard glory hole sign, servicing anyone who stopped to play a round, so to speak.

Karen and I had been competing for years, our petty rivalry escalating from backyard barbecues to the bedrooms of our unsuspecting spouses. Our lives in the Villages were a never-ending round of charity events and country club gossip, but we both craved something more. We both needed a challenge, and today’s tournament was going to deliver in spades, or should I say, strokes?

The day progressed like a sultry dance, our bodies twisting and turning with the lush greens of the course. Our competition was as fierce on the fairway as it was in the bedroom, and by the 17th hole, we were tied with one hole left to play, a challenging par 3 over water.

“This is it, Karen,” I said, my heart pounding in anticipation. “Winner takes all.”

She nodded, a cool confidence in her gaze. “You know what they say, Holly. A good drive can make all the difference.”

Knocking the ball off the tee, I watched as it soared through the air, its flight a testament to my practiced precision. The ball sailed towards the green, stopping mere inches from the hole. I smirked, my heart racing with satisfaction and anticipation.

Licking her lips nervously, Karen addressed her ball, a determined look in her eyes. She swung, her club connecting with the ball as she groaned. It soared past the green, landed on the fringe, and trickled into the water hazard.

I addressed the ball, my skirt riding up just high enough to give Karen and anyone else nearby a view of my bare slit. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly cut grass and expensive cologne. With a practiced swing, I sent the ball soaring toward the flag, which had been replaced with a lewd open woman’s mouth with her tongue sticking out. Almost everyone who saw us on the course knew why we were there, today. A raucous cheer went up from the others on the green, their lecherous catcalls fueling my fire.

Karen winked at me, when it was her turn. Her swing was smooth and fluid, the head of his club making contact with the ball with a satisfying thwack. The ball soared through the air, but I knew it would fall short of the green.

We repeated this dance throughout the round, our competitive banter masking the sexual tension between us. Our rounds of golf quickly devolved into a game of who could distract the other more, with teasing touches and suggestive grinding against the golf cart.

I swung the club with all my might, sending the ball sailing towards the green. It landed mere inches from the hole, practically begging to be tapped in. Karen cursed under her breath as she conceded this hole.

It was tradition that the loser of the first hole offer a blowjob to the caddy. She took him behind the trees and gave him a quick hummer before we continued on our way.

I took a deep breath, adjusting my nearly non-existent skirt and making my way back to the golf cart. It was going to be a long, agonizing afternoon. But I couldn’t wait to tee off again. This was starting to be an interesting day.

The second hole went to Karen. She was a practiced Golfer. The tradition was the loser of that round had to play with two golf balls nestled in her vagina like Ben-Wa balls. It was uncomfortable, and humiliating but so pleasurable.

As we approached the third hole, I couldn’t help but stare at the flag in disbelief. A crudely drawn picture of an asshole being pounded by a cartoonish cock stared back at me, taunting my sensibilities. I glanced over at Karen, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. “I guess we know what the theme of this hole is,” she said, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

“Three holes of golf, three hole sluts,” I snickered in agreement. We were both known as anal queens around the Villages. I take it up the ass daily, and so does my partner in crime Karen.

“Let’s finish this hole, so you can start riding around offering free blowjobs in the parking lot to anyone that wants them” I replied, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. Inside, my heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. I had always been a thrill-seeker, but this was pushing even my boundaries.

Karen leaned in close, her breath hot against my ear. “How about we make things a little more interesting? We’ll both be the ‘holes’ for this hole, and whoever sinks their putt first gets to ... well, you know.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at her suggestion, my body already responding to the tantalizing prospect. “Fine,” I said, my voice huskier than I intended. “But I get to go first.”

We positioned ourselves on the plush green grass, spreading our legs wide for optimal target practice. The sun beat down on my bare skin, making me acutely aware of my own vulnerability. I lined up my putt, my mind racing with thoughts of what was to come.

With a deep breath, I swung the club, watching as the ball rolled slowly towards its destination. It took two putts to finally sink it, my body trembling with anticipation as Karen took her turn. She eyed me up and down, her gaze lingering on the damp spot that had formed between my legs.

“Looks like I win,” she said with a smirk, lining up her shot. In one swift motion, she swung the club, sending the ball flying towards me with a force that took my breath away. I gasped as it made contact, the sensation of being ‘sunk’ sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body.

Karen’s laughter echoed in my ears as I lay there, panting and spent. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, but I couldn’t deny the thrill that coursed through me. Maybe this game was exactly what I needed to break free from the monotony of my life.

As we gathered our things to move on to the next hole, I stole a glance at Karen, her eyes meeting mine with a knowing look. “Careful, Holly,” she said, her voice low and seductive. “You might just find yourself enjoying this game more than you ever thought possible.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her words, already looking forward to the next challenge. Who knew that golf could be so ... exhilarating?

The sun bore down on my back as I knelt before the flag. I raised my skirt, so that my pussy was now a target for Karen to sink her putt. The humiliation of losing was a bitter pill to swallow, but the thrill of the game was undeniable. I could feel Karen’s eyes on me, her smirk evident even without looking.

I turned my head slightly, meeting her gaze. “Are you going to make me pay up, or are you just going to enjoy the view?” I asked, my voice dripping with false bravado. I had lost. She made the putt, and I had bet my ass.

Karen reamed me with the handle of her putter on the third hole, and IN my third hole.

Karen chuckled, sauntering towards me with a swagger that made my heart race. “Oh, I’m going to make you pay up, all right,” she purred, her fingers tracing the length of the putter with a wicked gleam in her eye.

I shivered, my body responding to the promise in her words. I knew what was coming, and yet I couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. I spread my legs wider, bracing myself for the impact.

“Ready?” Karen asked, her voice low and husky.

I nodded, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I felt the cold metal of the putter press against my ass, and I tensed, waiting for the inevitable.

With one swift motion, Karen thrust the putter into me, the force of it making me cry out. I could feel every ridge and contour of the club as it filled me, the sensation overwhelming. I gripped the grass beneath me, my knuckles white with the effort of holding on.

Karen began to move the putter in and out, her movements slow and deliberate at first, then gradually increasing in speed. I moaned, my body writhing with pleasure and pain. I could hear Karen’s ragged breathing as she worked me, her own desire evident in every stroke.

I never thought I’d find myself in this position—bent over, naked on the 3rd hole of the prestigious Palm Grove Golf Course, with Karen’s putter lodged firmly in my ass. But a bet was a bet, and I had no choice but to submit to the humiliating consequences of my loss.

My heart raced as Karen stepped closer, “You know, Holly,” she purred, her voice dripping with malice, “you always did have such a lovely ass. It’s a shame to see it go to waste on your clueless husband.”

I bit my lip, suppressing a moan as she adjusted her grip on the putter. The cool metal sent shivers down my spine, and I couldn’t help but feel a perverse thrill at the thought of being so utterly dominated by my longtime rival.

“Now, be a good girl and take it like an ass slut,” Karen commanded, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

With a swift, merciless thrust, she drove the putter deeper into me. I cried out, my body tensing as the pain mingled with an unexpected wave of pleasure. I hated myself for enjoying it, for craving the degradation that Karen so eagerly dished out.

As she continued to ream my ass with the putter, I could hear the distant sound of laughter. My friends, those traitorous bitches, had gathered to watch the spectacle, their giggles and catcalls echoing across the golf course.

“Look at her, taking it like a champ!” one of them cackled. “She’s such a dumb slut!”

I gritted my teeth, forcing back the tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

“You like that, don’t you, Holly?” Karen taunted, her breath hot against my ear. “You love being used and humiliated, just like the pathetic little whore you are.”

I couldn’t deny it. There was something intoxicating about the power dynamic between us, about being at Karen’s mercy. It was twisted and wrong, but I couldn’t help the way my body responded to her touch.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice hoarse with desire, “don’t stop.”

Karen chuckled darkly, her fingers digging into my hips as she increased the pace of her thrusts. “As you wish, my dear. But remember, this is only the beginning. You still have to pay your debts, and I have plenty of ways to make you suffer.”

I shuddered, my mind filling with images of the depraved acts Karen had no doubt planned for me. But even as fear and humiliation washed over me, I couldn’t ignore the dark, twisted part of myself that yearned for more.

As Karen continued to ream my ass with the putter, I gave in to the twisted pleasure, surrendering myself to the exquisite torment she so expertly inflicted. I was her plaything, her pawn in this sick game, and I would do anything to satisfy her sadistic desires.

And as I heard the roar of laughter from my friends, I realized that, for better or worse, I was exactly where I belonged, naked and ashamed of getting my tight asshole reamed by a bitch even sluttier and more ruthless than I was. It was so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” I gasped, my voice hoarse. “You’re going to make me cum.”

Karen’s laughter was low and throaty. “That’s the idea,” she murmured, her fingers digging into my hips as she pushed me harder and faster.

I could feel myself building towards release, my body trembling with the effort of holding on. And then, with one final thrust, I was there, my orgasm tearing through me like a tidal wave. I cried out, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me.

When it was over, I collapsed onto the grass, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Karen pulled the putter out of me with a satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

“I told you you’d enjoy this game,” she said, her voice smug.

I couldn’t help but smile, my body still humming with pleasure. “You were right,” I admitted, my voice soft. “I think I might have found my new favorite pastime.”

Once I had my clothes back on, It was time for me to accept that I had lost the bet. I phoned my husband and let him know that I’d be sucking dicks tonight.

“Just like every night, dear?”

“I lost the three-hole course, so now I am going to be riding around in the mobile glory hole,” I said.

Karen had one of her servants fashion a very crude sign before the contest. It was big enough to hide behind and give anonymous blow jobs. It was clearly labeled “Mobile Glory Hole”. Anyone could have looked behind the cardboard and saw me there gobbling dick if they wanted. Most men didn’t care to look.

Gripping the leather-wrapped steering wheel of my golf cart, I scanned the pristine lawns of the country club, my eyes hungry for the next thrill. The sun glinted off the chrome of the club’s emblem, momentarily blinding me. I squinted, my full lips curling into a mischievous smile as I spotted my target: a bald, old man leaning on his putter, his eyes scanning the course with a practiced gaze.

With a flick of my wrist, I sent the cart gliding towards him, my heart pounding with anticipation. I could sense the old man’s curiosity as I pulled up beside him, my low-cut top revealing just enough cleavage to hold his attention. I leaned forward, my breasts pressing against the cool metal of the golf cart’s dashboard, and whispered, “Care for a little extra fun on the back nine?”

The old man’s eyes widened, and he glanced around nervously before nodding. I grinned, satisfied, and gestured towards the makeshift glory hole I’d installed in the side of the golf cart. As the old man fumbled with his belt, I couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement. This was the thrill I craved, the chance to flaunt my wealth and power in the most scandalous of ways.

I closed my eyes, savoring the sensation of the old man’s cock sliding between my lips. I could hear the distant sound of laughter and the clink of glasses from the clubhouse, but all that mattered was the taste of him, the feel of his flesh against my tongue. I worked him expertly, my years of practice serving me well.

As I felt him begin to tense, I opened my eyes and glanced through the glory hole. The old man’s face was flushed, his eyes squeezed shut as he fought to contain his pleasure. I smirked, relishing the power I held over him.

Suddenly, a crisp hundred-dollar bill appeared in the glory hole, the old man’s trembling fingers stuffing it towards me. I rolled my eyes, but continued to suck him off, my movements slow and deliberate. As he reached his climax, I took the hundred-dollar bill from his grasp and stuffed it back through the hole.

“I don’t need your money,” I murmured, my voice low and sultry. “I have more than enough of my own.”

The old man stared at me, his mouth agape, as I pulled away and hit the accelerator. The golf cart lurched forward, leaving him standing there, his pants still undone and his face a mixture of shock and arousal.

As I drove away, I couldn’t help but laugh. I was Holly Chambers, the rich and entitled housewife who got off on giving anonymous blowjobs in her golf cart. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Later that afternoon, I found myself cruising the grounds of the country club once more, my eyes scanning for my next target. That’s when I spotted them: two sweaty, dirty Mexicans working on the lawn. Karen would have insisted I do it, and I had to admit, the idea of sucking off two men at once was more than a little intriguing.

I pulled up beside them, my golf cart’s engine purring like a contented cat. The men looked up, their dark eyes widening as they took in my toned physique and nearly transparent top. I licked my lips, my heart racing with anticipation.

“Hola, chicos,” I purred, my voice dripping with innuendo. “Want to take a break and have some fun?”

The men exchanged a glance, then grinned, their white teeth flashing in the sunlight. I gestured towards the back of the golf cart, my eyes gleaming with mischief. They didn’t need any further encouragement.

As they approached the cart, I could smell the sweat and dirt on their bodies, It was oddly intoxicating, and I found myself growing wet with desire. I leaned back, my eyes closed, as they climbed into the back of the cart.

I could feel their hands on me, rough and calloused, as they tugged at my clothes. I moaned, my body responding to their touch. They were dirty and sweaty, but their cocks were hard and ready, and that was all that mattered.

I took turns sucking them off, my mouth moving from one cock to the other as they groaned with pleasure. I could feel their fingers digging into my flesh, their movements growing more urgent as they neared their climax.

As they finished, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and grinned. “Mexican for lunch,” I murmured, my voice husky with desire. “Just what I needed.”

I glanced over at Karen’s golf cart, where she was watching me with a mixture of envy and amusement. “Bitch,” she mouthed, her lips curling into a smirk. I just laughed, my body still buzzing with pleasure, and hit the accelerator.

My life was a never-ending cycle of thrills and indulgence, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. I get off on wasting my husband’s money on trivial luxuries almost as much as I get off on strange cock and doing nasty things just for the fuck of it.

When Karen finally caught up to me, she asked “did you enjoy your Mexican for lunch?”

I grinned, “You know I did,” she replied, her voice dripping with innuendo. “But I have to admit, I’m still hungry.”

Karen raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well then,” she said, her voice taking on a teasing tone, “maybe it’s time for some dessert. Get cracking, whore! I want to see you suck a lot more dicks than this. You are boring me!”

I had lost the bet. I had to comply. I would have made Karen do the same thing if the shoe was on the other foot.

I couldn’t believe I was doing this again, but the thrill was too much to resist. Sitting in my golf cart, I watched as the men in khaki shorts and polo shirts finished up their 18 holes. They were laughing and joking, completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to give them the best round of their lives.

I adjusted my nearly transparent top, making sure my ample cleavage was on full display. The skimpy skirt I was wearing barely covered my ass, and I knew that it would drive them wild. I was a rich bitch, and I loved nothing more than using my wealth and power to get what I wanted.

As the men started to make their way towards the clubhouse, I swung my golf cart into action. I pulled up next to the first group, my heart racing with excitement. The men looked surprised, but I could see the lust in their eyes.