The Twelfth Hole
By Robert Morrison
A caddy has an amourous encounter at a golf course with a muscular beauty


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Warning: Adult content. Romantic Adult Content. There, that should 
dissuade most of you.

The Twelfth Hole

	Michael Davies was a handsome young man, nearing his twentieth
birthday. He was tall and had a well-toned body from hours of labour.
He had well-kept, thick brown hair and earthen brown eyes. Michael had
trouble relating to girls, however, and was extremely timid around women.
Whenever a girl did approach him with amourous intentions, he would
become scared, and tried to avoid the confrontation.
	Michael was planning a career in video production, and was trying
to save for college. He had worked in various factories and on 
construction sites. He nearly had enough money. Only two monthes ago, 
Michael was laid off from a packaging factory, but had managed to obtain
a job as a caddy at the local golf club. Working as a caddy was long and
tedious work, but peaceful. Michael found that he met all types of people
used the course, and all would spill their life stories to him. Michael
filled a role usually held by such people as barbers and taxi cab drivers.
	And so, week after week, Michael trudged round the course, carrying
people's clubs. He got to know the club and its staff like the back of his
hand. Because of this, one day, he was surprised to see a new assisstant
groundskeeper, and even more shocked at her presence.
	If happened one summer day, when Michael was caddying to Mr. Wilson,
a regular. They were on the fairway of the seventh hole. Michael was 
wearing a simple blue t-shirt and khaki shorts. Mr. Wilson was wearing a
golf shirt, long pants and a golf visor. Mr. Wilson was setting up for a 
shot to the green, and was debating on either a six or seven iron to
execute the shot. He turned to Michael.
	'So, whaddya think?'
	'Hmm... I don't know." replied Michael. He put a finger to the wind
and swivled around. It was then he caught sight of the young woman raking
sand in the trap off to the side.
	She was only about three inches shorter than Michael, making her six
feet tall. She wore a red T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts. She had a
beautiful face with rose-coloured lips and thick eyelashes. Her nose was
short, sharp and slightly upturned. She had light brown hair that hung
closely to her neck.
	The girl was also extremely well-built. Her long, strong legs sprouted
out from her shorts. Quads crossed over one another, bulging with strength.
Her calves billowed out to the size of footballs. THe arms of the girl were
also muscular. Her forearms were covered with muscle that moved with each
rake of the sand. Her triceps and biceps contracted and expanded in rhythmn.
Her deltoid muscles threatened to destroy the sleeves of the shirt.
	Michael could not believe the vision before him. He had not seen the
young woman before, so he concluded she must be new on the staff. He knew
he had but one purpose: find out who the girl was and find some way of
meeting her.
	After he finished his shift, Michael returned to the club house. He
looked around until he found Mr. Phillips, the head groundskeeper. He was an
aging man with balding grey hair. He smiled enthusiastically at Michael with
his false teeth.
	'Hallo, Michael! What can I do for you?'
	'Mr. P. Who is that new girl you hired?'
	'Oh! You mean Amanda. Amanda Hammond. I know her mother, Carol, and so
when Amanda came 'round looking for work, I was more than happy to hire her.
She's a college girl, gonna study kinesiology.'
	'Where is she now?'
	'Oh, she'll be out raking the traps. That's what I usually have her do.
She should be out around the eleventh hole by now. You want to meet... where'd
he go?'
	Phillips shifted his head back and forth, trying to catch Michael, but
he was long departed.
	Michael ran outside of the clubhouse. He glanced around, in thought. He
glanced at the golf carts, no doubt newly recharged, but he shook his head. He
wanted to be casual about things. He decided to take a short cut.
	Michael ran for the sixth hole. The par-3 course was litered with water
hazards, and Michael spent time dodging the water. A golfer yelled 'fore!' and
a ball flew towards him, but he didn't slow down. Michael darted forward with
the ball nearly nicking him.
	'You crazy kid!' yelled the golfer.
	Michael ran through the trees. He dodged past the branches, and lept over
roots. He suddenly fell forwards onto the ground. He got up and brushed himself
off. Nursing the back of his head, he looked at the ground.
	There, on the ground was a small, white sphere. He had tripped over a golf
ball.
	'One of Mr. Litman's!' he cursed. 'Damn bugger never plays them where they
land. Can't golf worth beans!' He turned on his heels, and carefully walked the
rest of the path.
	Michael got through the trees, and ended up at the edge of the twelfth hole,
a par-5 course with three large sand traps and one small water hazard right
before the green. Michael himself had gotten an eagle once while playing the
course at this particular hole, but many golfers bogied out.
	He scanned around, until he found what he had been looking for. In the
largest of the sand pits was Amanda, working with a rough patch of sand. Her rake
was stuck, and she was pulling hard at it, trying to pull it out. She stopped
and breathed out. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, showing off the
peak of her bicep. Her skin was covered in a light coat of sweat.
	Michael paced over across the fairway to the edge of the sand trap. The
dying sun shone behind him, blacking himself out from Amanda's view.
	'Need some help?' Michael called out.
	Amanda turned to look, and squinted, the evening sun blinding her. Michael
walked down into the trap, moving slowly and calmly. He paced near to her, and
she glanced at him. A smile came over her face.
	'Sure. I can't get this rake out.' Amanda said.
	'Let me help. Let's pull it out together.'
	'OK'
	The both grasped the rake handle. Grunting and straining, they both tugged
and pulled, but the rake was kept steady in the ground. They continued to pull
and pull, but the rake would not give.
	'Here,' said Michael, 'we have to try like this!' And with that, he placed
his arms over Amanda's. Grasping her hands, he felt the warm blood flow through
them. His soul sturred within. He felt the contours of her body and the strength
it possessed. Michael lingered over her strong arms, the knotted cords possessing
him.
	Amanda could feel Michael's toned body, and looked gazingly at him. She
turned around and grasped his shoulders. The pair bent their heads against one
another. Feeling each other's sweat was more than either could take. Their lips
found one another and they embraced. Tongue danced with tongue.
	Amanda's hands grapsed Michael's hard body. She kneeded his tight buttox 
and pressed her bosom against his chest. She wrapped one of her long, hard 
muscular legs around his hamstrings.
	Michael felt Amanda's amazing body. His hands felt her hard abdomen. He
grasped her arms and stroked them, feeling her thick bi- and triceps. Michael
used his foot to feel the curvature of her calf muscles.
	Michael reached to the small of Amanda's back and pulled up her t-shirt
over her head. Amanda slowly let the t-shirt slide down her arms. Her breasts, 
held by a brassiere, were full and round. Michael whipped off his shirt and
dropped it on the ground. Amanda rubbed her hands up Michael's chest and
kissed him passionately.
	The pair knelt to the ground, and let passion run its course. They
embraced in a hot rage. The sun began to set...

	The next morning, Amanda got to the course extra early. She was seen
raking the sand trap of the twelfth hole.
	Michael showed up at the course the same time Amanda did...

TO BE CONTINUED.