TRACEY'S GOLFING HOLIDAY ADVENTURE
"Yes, off you go and play your golf, I'll be okay," Tracey said, if only to herself, as she decided on what to do for the afternoon that would be spent without her husband, Jack. Now, she added some extra words that she had not said but summed up just how she felt, adventurous and open to what the afternoon might bring to her. "I've had enough of holidays like this, with you going off to play golf and I'm left to fill in the hours until you return."
She had played the game for a while but never put in the time to practice and sharpen her technique. The exercise was good, but she had found yoga and keeping to a diet had greater effects on the figure of a fifty-five-year-old woman.
But here she was in a Portuguese golfing resort hotel with the beach a short walk away. She would swim and sunbathe, throw caution to the wind, and wear a skimpy azure blue bikini that would scarcely cover her voluptuous curves but would allow her tan to spread over more of her body. Besides, with everyone in the hotel scantily clad and doing much the same as she was, who was to be engaged with an older woman?
The men, like Jack, in the golfing party went about the game while their women and wives pursued their interests before they all gathered for drinks and supper, sometimes a booze-filled lunch that had the men changing their plans.
But all of that was till a whole afternoon away.
"Don't overdo the sunbathing, will you?" Jack had said, giving her a perfunctory kiss before leaving for an early afternoon tee-off slot. Making sure that she had everything, and that her floral-print wrap, covered her for the walk down to the secluded and private beach of the hotel she closed the door behind her and took the single flight of stairs down to the lobby.
The contrast with the cool of the building was immediate. The sun blazed down from a cloudless sky and she was glad that her wide-rimmed sunglasses kept out the glare. A light sea breeze wafted her wrap around her legs and as she wondered what to do a familiar voice called out to her. Perhaps she would have some company to ease away her resentment about how this golfing holiday was proceeding.
"Hello, Tracey. Are you going to the bar because, if you are, I'd like to buy you a drink?"
She turned to see Ken Boultney standing on the path dressed in shorts and a brightly patterned shirt, that hung loose over a broad and hairy chest. He was a bulky, not unattractive man that he took to be much the same age as her, fifty-five or so. He was part of the golfing group who had all met on the first night in the resort. She saw how his eyes drifted over her and took in what she had chosen to wear.
"Yes, why not, Ken? I was going to the beach..."
"So I see," he smiled with a suggestive pout of his lips. "We can go to the pool bar if that's okay. Barry Fraser is joining me and we've asked our caddy, Aleixo, along. It's becoming a warm day ...."
"So it is," she answered and heard the men Ken had spoken of call out in greeting. No, it was only Barry. Aleixo held back as he saw how they all were together.
Aleixo was a Portuguese local, young and handsome with a mass of silken black hair and slender, unlike Barry and Ken. Given her mood, she wouldn't complain about their company if they decided to stay with her after a round of drinks had been bought.
A round of the usual small talk was further loosened up by two more rounds of drinks, one that she paid for. Joshing banter flew around, with Barry and Ken seated on the bar stools on either side of her and with Aleixo looking on and struggling to keep up, even if his command of English was surprisingly good.
Tracey kept turning on her seat to look his way, and she realized that she was becoming intensely attracted to the caddy. Her wrap had fallen open and none of the men would be left in any doubt what she brought to their sight. The heat of the day, the drinks that she had consumed to rid herself of the irritation she had felt when Frank had left had her feeling slightly light-headed and flirty.
She turned to Ken whom she thought the more attractive of the two Englishman she was sitting with.
"Tell me if I'm wrong, but I guess you guys might just get to thinking of some fun in the nineteenth hole," she offered in jest slowly parting her legs so that her wrap exposed the cut of her bikini pants and her fleshy thighs.
"Perhaps Tracey. Would it be you holding the pin?" Ken gave her a proving stare and caught Barry's look on them as he arched his eyebrows as what was at play between them sank in.
"It's no fun being a golf widow, I guess...even...even out here?" he ventured. Barry had a thought. "I don't suppose we could see how the nineteenth hole lies, could we?" he suggested when the young woman who was the bartender was distracted by the call of guests from the other end of the bar.
"Oh! I...I hadn't thought of it in that way," Tracey stammered before she blushed. She twisted on her bar stool to see whether their conversation was being overheard and felt a moment's touch of Ken's fingers on the soft skin of her thigh.
Even as she held his knowing look upon her and to check once more that no one was paying them any attention, she reached down between her legs and tugged the crotch of her bikini briefs to one side. Both Ken and Barry got a nice look at her shaved pussy before she pulled the small triangle of cloth back to cover herself, her wrap soon following.
Ken was not the kind of man to miss an opportunity of flirting with an attractive woman. Frank would be away for some hours and the curvy woman beside him who was becoming the worse for wear because of drink needed taking care of.
"I don't suppose there is somewhere we could, uh, uh, go and...you know, we get into a more relaxed place...the nineteenth hole as you mentioned, Tracey??"
She made a great show of being shocked at what he had suggested and held up her hand to reveal her wedding ring. Ger, "You know that I'm married...to Frank?"
"And so are we," Ken and Barry chorused in reply as they showed her their ring fingers.
Barry put his hand on her thigh. "We're on our own for the rest of the day, Tracey.... aren't we it seems?"
"And we get down to playing a different game?" she quipped in reply.
"If you like, yes..." Ken murmured as he too put a hand on her thigh and brushed the fabric of her wrap over her skin.
"Well, we sure can't go to my room," Tracey suggested, "I can't be having my husband asking questions."
