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Authors: Terry Ravenscroft
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down him before he’s allowed to continue his round.”
“ And no ladies,” said Harris.
“ Well only if you can manage one after the four pints of bitter or six shorts.”
All three of them laughed hugely at Garland's chauvinistic aside, then Ifield produced a packet of sweets from his golf bag and offered them round. “Fancy a mint, Mr Vice?”
“ Do bears shit in the woods?” said Garland, helping himself to a mint.
True to form Red Arrow member Charlie Carter sprayed his tee shot at the second hole fifty yards to the left, whereupon his ball came to rest ten yards or so into the light rough, close by the wall bordering the fairway. He had almost reached the errant sphere and was wondering what sort of a lie he would find it in when an unfamiliar noise to his right captured his attention. He peered over the wall, down into the little copse, and immediately saw the reason for the strange noise. It was a couple making love, the noise being unfamiliar to him as it had been a long time since Carter, now in his early seventies, had had the pleasure of making love, and had completely forgotten what it sounded like.
In the Year of Our Lord 2010 the sight of a couple copulating is quite commonplace. One has only to switch on the television set or visit a cinema and it is bound to appear sooner or later, probably sooner, but the sight of two fit-looking young people making love in the flesh, and with such joyful abandon, was not something one saw every day. A considerate man, Carter immediately thought that his playing partners might like to view the spectacle. Consequently he waved to attract the attention of Bradley and Abbott, some fifty and a hundred yards away respectively, and having gained their attention beckoned them over to join him. They made their way over and as they drew nearer to him Carter put a finger to his lips as a warning for them to keep quiet. Once they had joined him, and after Abbott had remarked that he had never been on this side of the course before and how nice it was, especially the rhododendron bushes, Carter drew their attention to Dean and Gemma, who were still going at it like knives.
Abbott was immediately in awe at the sight set out before him. “Jesus, watch the bugger go,” he whispered.
“ Like the piston on an 0-6-0 shunter,” said Bradley, a trainspotting anorak, keeping his voice down.
“ And not a stitch on,” said Carter, like Bradley keeping his voice down, but not making any attempt to keep the excitement out of it. “Naked as nature intended!”
“ Certainly brings back memories,” said Abbott, who at seventy six was even older than Carter.
“ No age either, by the look of them,” observed Bradley. “When I was that age I hadn't even had a feel of a titty except through a duffel coat, and even then she made me wear gloves.”
“ Yes, we were born fifty years too soon lads,” said Carter, wistfully. “I even missed out on the Swinging Sixties by ten years.”
“ Me too,” said Abbott. “But even the Swinging Sixties didn’t swing anything like as much as things do nowadays.”
They looked down fondly and a little jealously on the coupling couple, for it really was a sight to behold. For the act of love is only rarely engaged in by people blessed with such slim, toned and tanned bodies as those of Dean and Gemma, more typically being performed by couples who carry a generous surplus of white flesh, with the result that the union resembles something akin to a third-rate wrestling bout with added juices, rather than the thing of beauty it was with the two young lovers.
The three watched a little longer, then Carter said, “Come on, we'd best be off, it's making me feel randy and that won't do my game any good at all, I don’t know if I’d be able to putt with a hard on.”
“ It might help you to keep your head still,” said Abbott.
“ It wouldn’t help him keep his arse still,” said Bradley.
And that would have been that. But just at
“ And no ladies,” said Harris.
“ Well only if you can manage one after the four pints of bitter or six shorts.”
All three of them laughed hugely at Garland's chauvinistic aside, then Ifield produced a packet of sweets from his golf bag and offered them round. “Fancy a mint, Mr Vice?”
“ Do bears shit in the woods?” said Garland, helping himself to a mint.
True to form Red Arrow member Charlie Carter sprayed his tee shot at the second hole fifty yards to the left, whereupon his ball came to rest ten yards or so into the light rough, close by the wall bordering the fairway. He had almost reached the errant sphere and was wondering what sort of a lie he would find it in when an unfamiliar noise to his right captured his attention. He peered over the wall, down into the little copse, and immediately saw the reason for the strange noise. It was a couple making love, the noise being unfamiliar to him as it had been a long time since Carter, now in his early seventies, had had the pleasure of making love, and had completely forgotten what it sounded like.
In the Year of Our Lord 2010 the sight of a couple copulating is quite commonplace. One has only to switch on the television set or visit a cinema and it is bound to appear sooner or later, probably sooner, but the sight of two fit-looking young people making love in the flesh, and with such joyful abandon, was not something one saw every day. A considerate man, Carter immediately thought that his playing partners might like to view the spectacle. Consequently he waved to attract the attention of Bradley and Abbott, some fifty and a hundred yards away respectively, and having gained their attention beckoned them over to join him. They made their way over and as they drew nearer to him Carter put a finger to his lips as a warning for them to keep quiet. Once they had joined him, and after Abbott had remarked that he had never been on this side of the course before and how nice it was, especially the rhododendron bushes, Carter drew their attention to Dean and Gemma, who were still going at it like knives.
Abbott was immediately in awe at the sight set out before him. “Jesus, watch the bugger go,” he whispered.
“ Like the piston on an 0-6-0 shunter,” said Bradley, a trainspotting anorak, keeping his voice down.
“ And not a stitch on,” said Carter, like Bradley keeping his voice down, but not making any attempt to keep the excitement out of it. “Naked as nature intended!”
“ Certainly brings back memories,” said Abbott, who at seventy six was even older than Carter.
“ No age either, by the look of them,” observed Bradley. “When I was that age I hadn't even had a feel of a titty except through a duffel coat, and even then she made me wear gloves.”
“ Yes, we were born fifty years too soon lads,” said Carter, wistfully. “I even missed out on the Swinging Sixties by ten years.”
“ Me too,” said Abbott. “But even the Swinging Sixties didn’t swing anything like as much as things do nowadays.”
They looked down fondly and a little jealously on the coupling couple, for it really was a sight to behold. For the act of love is only rarely engaged in by people blessed with such slim, toned and tanned bodies as those of Dean and Gemma, more typically being performed by couples who carry a generous surplus of white flesh, with the result that the union resembles something akin to a third-rate wrestling bout with added juices, rather than the thing of beauty it was with the two young lovers.
The three watched a little longer, then Carter said, “Come on, we'd best be off, it's making me feel randy and that won't do my game any good at all, I don’t know if I’d be able to putt with a hard on.”
“ It might help you to keep your head still,” said Abbott.
“ It wouldn’t help him keep his arse still,” said Bradley.
And that would have been that. But just at
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