tagRomanceGarbage Man

Garbage Man

bySoftly©

“My threesome is very competitive. Bill Johnson shoots to a three handicap. Ed Fitzgerald is a steady five, and I shoot to a six. I am Wilbur Ramsey. We play serious golf. A little money changes hands. We have been members at Pinehurst since we were all thirteen. We are thirty two now.

Last Monday at five after seven AM, the golf pro, Henry Dugan, came up to us at the driving range. “You guys have a tee time today of seven thirty five. Do you mind if I send a fourth out with you?”

“Please don’t send a talkative hacker with us,” I said.

“Trust me, she is no hacker, boys. She is a new member, that is also my student. She will play from the white tees with you. I suggest that you don’t bet money on your game against hers.”

“This, I’ve got to see?” Ed said with a laugh.

We were on the first tee, and from a distance saw a young woman begin hitting balls about ten minutes before our tee time. Could not see her that well, or see where the balls she hit landed.

When she walked towards the first tee, with her caddie, Bill let out a low whistle. “Whew, this gal is stacked.”

Then, I recognized her. Stumbling on the words, I said. “Damn, that is Kelly Morgan. The Kelly Morgan that plays on the Ladies Professional Golf Tour.”

As she walked up to us, she looked us over with a cool detachment. Her bearing was that of the professional that has been scrutinized by thousands of fans as she played her game of precise golf.

I recalled looking at her statistics in the recent issue of “Woman’s Golf.” Her average drive was two hundred and fifty seven yards. Last year she had won two majors, and four other tournaments.

Her drive on the first tee gave us a sample of how the rest of the round would go. She birdied the first three holes.

Her concentration was complete. If one of us hit a good shot, softly, she would comment, “Nice, very nice.” Other then that, she was absorbed with her ball, the course, and her swing which was as smooth as it was powerful.

On the sixteenth, Ed said to me, “A machine, a damn machine, a great damn machine.”

On the eighteenth, she thanked us. “I understand that you play four times a week at this time, could I join you for the next week?”

“We would be delighted,” we all said at once.

After she drove off, I went in to talk to Henry. “Hey Henry, we enjoyed your student. She is going to join us for a week. What is the story with her? Why is she here all of a sudden?”

Henry smiled, and waved me into his office. “Here is the story. She is a North Carolina gal that went to the University of Texas on a golf scholarship. Made All American. Married a guy just after graduation. He became a Delta pilot.”

“She was away from home a lot at the professional golf qualifying school, and then when she made the tour. As you may recall, during her first three years, she did not play well, so made very little money. No private jets to fly her around, that is for sure.”

“Her husband became a cock hound, and was fucking every gal he could. Kelly got wind of it, and divorced him.”

“Right after her divorce, her game came together. The rest, as they say, is history. She has been coming to me to sharpen her game for three years now. To get away from her ex, she has moved here. She lives by her self. She is twenty seven, and is one of the loneliest people I have ever met.”

As he said that, Henry looked me squarely in the eye. “Wilbur, she needs a friend, a husband, but I will be one mad son of a bitch if anyone hurts that girl.”

“Henry, are you telling me that I should try to date her?”

“Well, you are the nicest guy that I know. You lost your wife a year ago. You know the game of golf, and your business runs itself. Maybe you could travel with her, be her caddie or something?”

“Holy jumped up Jesus, Henry, you are a damn matchmaker. Does she know about any of your fantasies? I own a fleet of garbage trucks. I’m a garbage men, for God’s sake. She is a super star.”

“Wilbur, you have know me for a lot of years. I play for keeps. Trust me, under that veneer of hers she is a hell of a woman. No, she does not know what I think of you, but when she knows that I sent you her way, she will take a look at you.”

I sat there shaking my head. Kelly had earned almost three million dollars last year alone.

Wednesday, Henry met us as we walked off the eighteenth green. “Kelly, Wilbur, I want you to join me for lunch at a “The Magic Wedge” downtown. Kelly, you ride with Wilbur. I will take my pick up truck, so that I can do some errands later.”

Kelly stopped. You could tell that she was savvy enough to know that she was being set up to be with me alone. She looked from Henry to me, and her face changed from her game face, to a slight smile, and then back to that cold veneer. “Sure, okay, I will be ready in twenty minutes,” she said as she walked toward the ladies locker room.

“Shit, Henry, you are a bold old man.”

“I play for keeps, Wilbur.”

As we were riding into town, Kelly asked me what I did. “Well, I’m a Garbage man. I own a fleet of trucks that I contract out to several of the nearby towns to pick up their trash and garbage.” I’m nobody special, just an average guy.

Kelly stared at me for several seconds, which seemed to me to be an eternity. Then, her face broke into the prettiest grin as a throaty low laugh escaped her lips. Shaking her head from side to side, she said, with her eyes locked on mine, “Henry must think that you are one hell of a man, to have set me up with you. I’ll say one thing, You are the least pretentious man that I have ever met. An average man, that owns a garbage truck fleet?”

“Are you married?”

“Was. she died twelve months ago of cervical cancer.”

“Sorry”

After the meal, we had driven back to the Club so that Kelly could pick up her car. She wrote out her address. “See you at my apartment in thirty minutes.” That was it, and she got out.

I was one confused turkey. “What on earth was I to expect when I went to her place?” I went in to shower and contemplated what she wanted of me. I begin to sing Frank’s old song, “Strangers in the night.”

The guard at the entrance to Southwind complex nodded when I identified myself, and said, “Miss Morgan is expecting you.”

What opened the door to greet me, was not the same woman I had seen at the club, not by a long shot. The game face was gone. With her hair down, and her makeup on, she was stunning. The low cut sun dress revealed what Bill Johnson had commented about the first time he saw her, “The lady is stacked.”

There was a delicate aroma of fine perfume. When I was clear of the door, she pressed up to me, with her breasts firmly against my chest, and her nose touching mine. She gently kissed me first on one cheek, and then the other. She looked in my eyes, and then with her arms around my neck gave me a firm kiss on the lips that lasted for a minute.

So quiet that I could just hear her, she said,” Bold little devil, aren’t I?”

“Henry has taught you well.”

Leading me by the hand, she took me to the living room. Sitting me on her couch, she sat next to me. “I’m going to take a crash course about Wilbur,” she said with a mischievous grin.

Here is the program; “I am obligated to play in the Buick Invitational in two weeks. I phoned Henry. He gave me an order to marry you and bring you on tour with me, as my caddie. Even told me that old joke that we should paint a big “W” on the side of one of your trucks and call it a Winnabago. Last guy I knew, I was married to, he drove one hundred million dollar jets, and now I’m making a pass at a guy that drives one hundred thousand dollar garbage trucks.”

“So, play with me Wilbur. Kiss me, thrill me, let me know what you are thinking, what makes you tick?”

At that moment, I wanted to cry. I was overwhelmed with her pure trusting innocence. “Super stars had to love somebody, but me, an average guy?” Sure, I was six three, and one hundred and ninety pounds. Sure, a lot of gals commented about my tight buns, and wavy hair, but I was an average frog in a small pond.”

I kissed her. I was not thinking of her tits, or her pussy. I wanted to taste her, to hold her in my arms. I ran my hands over her hair, which was silky. There was a soft fuzz on her neck that turned me on. Her arms were firm, yet held me in an intimate embrace.

She nuzzled my ear, and blew softly in my ear. It was twenty minutes later, that she brought me out of my dream as she placed her hand on my cock, and whispered, “If you remember how to use that thing, I have a practice hole that you might find interesting!” That, of course, brought an instant erection.

Taking the lead again, she led me to her bed room. We undressed, and I saw that God, had been very kind to Kelly. There were no bad features.

We snuggled for a while, and then she rolled on to her back, and openly said, “Its been over a year for me, I want you.”

I lay on her. She used her hand to guide my cock into her. “You are so gentle with me,” she said. “God, do I love your tender, soft touch.” Your voice is soft, and you have such a light touch for man of your strength”

My interest was in making love to Kelly, not in just fucking her. We would move for a while, and then just kiss. It was thirty minutes before, she begin to push with an intensity. There was no doubt that she was close, so I pinched her breasts and changed my thrusting. “Oooooooooohhhhooooooooooooooooooo,” the long moan was her signal that she was riding an orgasm.

She pulled and twisted my limp cock as we lay side by side talking about her family and mine. Finally, I asked her, “Kelly, would you mind if I mouthed your pussy?”

“Oh, please do. I would like that very much.” There was that mischievous grim again. I could feel the satin sheets as I lifted her legs with my arms, and split her legs so that I had a clear shot at her cunt.

The aroma, of course, was a mixture of cum, vagina juice, and her body smell from around her bush, which was hardly trimmed.

If I have to die, I want to be licking her pussy when I do. I took my time, and started outside her lips, and worked to them, and them into her vagina, itself. By the time my mouth was locked on to her clit, and my finger was probing her G spot, her fanny was doing the dance of the “Orgasm.”

She forceful humped her hips several times, as her moans told me that she had once again cum. This time when I entered her, I was more sexually aroused and fucked her hard, bring on her third orgasm.

We got up, showered together, and went down to the pool to sunbathe. Just before we got there, she asked me to stop, and turn around slowly. “You have quite a body on you,” she tossed at me.

“Your not chopped liver yourself,” I retorted.

As we settled into the lounge chairs, and each sipped on a Coke, she said, “Well, what do you think?”

Henry’s words played in my mind, “I play for keeps.” It was apparent, that Kelly, too, “Played for keeps.” This was the big leagues. It was my chance to be part of the big “Show.” It was not me that was scheming and plotting to get me on board, it was Henry and Kelly.

I put my feet on the concrete between our chairs, and looked at this woman, this Super Star, that for some reason that I did not fully understand was willing to tie her star to mine.

It was not a time to be timid. “Kelly, we fly to Las Vegas tomorrow. It will take us two days to get married. I will become your caddie on tour. We will buy a bus to travel and live in when you are on tour. We are both crazy, but I think that you and I will make it.

“Henry said that you were man enough to make a commitment. I like that in a man! Your on!” With that, she stood, and as I also stood, she kissed me. A kiss that I will never forget. The breeze blowing her hair on to both sides of my face, and her smell as the sun light played off her face.

Two weeks later, the CBS camera crew first showed the leader board on that Sunday. At the top, at twelve under par was the name, “Kelly Morgan.” The next shot was of Kelly standing in the fairway of the thirteenth hole. She had a big grin on her face, as did her caddie who was standing next to her, while they discussed the placement of her next shot for proper course management.

The announcer intoned; “We are seeing a new Kelly Morgan this week. Look at the smile on her face. She has a new caddie, and he sure is keeping her loose. She and the other pros call him, “The Garbage man.”

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