My school had just let out for the year, and I needed to land a job. I wanted to save money so my boyfriend and I could get an apartment when we went to college. I saw an ad in the paper. The local golf course was looking for a girl to drive the beverage cart for the summer. "Perfect," I thought as I dialed the number. I arranged an interview that afternoon and called my best friend, Amy, to share the news.

"Oh my God, Becca, that's amazing; with your body, you'll make bank," she said excitedly.

"What's my body got to do with it, Amy?" I asked, clueless.

"Baby, the course will be full of dirty old men eyeing you up as you sell them drinks. The more of your charms you show, the more tips you'll make," she explained.

"Really? I had no idea," I replied.

"You can make two hundred a day in tips, I'll bet," Amy continued.

"Holy shit," I replied, really excited now.

I hung up, jumped in the shower, shaved, dried off, and stood in my room before my mirror. I smiled at what I saw, firm round breasts with firm puffy nipples sitting on top, "star gazers," my boyfriend called them. My slender but firm body and curvy hips held my mini skirts just right. A tight little camel toe tucked up between my thighs and legs that went on forever. At five foot nine and one hundred ten pounds, I was what the boys in school called "a smoke show."

I arrived at my three o'clock dressed in a red plaid mini skirt and a white halter top, my hair in pigtails. I walked up to the man behind the counter at the pro shop.

"Excuse me, sir, I have a three o'clock interview with Ted," I said softly.

He turned around and looked me over head to toe before smiling broadly.

"Oh yeah," he laughed as he handed me an employment application.

"Where do I go?" I asked.

"You can fill this out in the bar and wait to be called," he informed me.

I walked into the bar and was shocked to see five other girls sitting there with applications in hand. A bit anxious, I sat down and filled out the application as the girls were called in individually for an interview. I looked at their outfits, and they were all dressed pretty slutty, causing me to unbutton two buttons on my blouse to expose my titties a bit. I wasn't feeling very confident when a man stepped into the bar.

"Rebecca," he called out.

I walked through the now-empty bar and followed him down a hall to his office.

"Have a seat on the couch, Rebecca. My name is Ted, and I'm the golf course manager," he stated.

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you," I smiled warmly as I went to sit down.

"Oh my!" I exclaimed as I sat down on the couch; my butt sank down into the cushion, and my legs spread involuntarily.

Ted was standing over me, peering between my legs at my barely covered bald pink peach. He sat in his chair and wheeled it out from behind his desk so he was right in front of me, my face crimson red in embarrassment.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I cried.

"Rebecca, it's fine, no harm done, he smiled while viewing my privates.

If I had closed my legs at this point, I would have been in a ridiculous-looking position, so I swallowed hard and left them open for his eyes to gaze at. Ted read over my application, scratching his chin.

"The other girls are much older than you and have experience. Tell me why I should consider you," he asked.

"Um, well…. I'm a fast learner, a hard worker, and very polite," I fumbled my answer.

"All the qualities I look for in a cart girl," he said as he looked at my pussy.

"Thank you, I said, still unsettled. He was staring at my suddenly stirring pussy.

"Even though you can't drink in this county, you can serve liquor," he said, licking his lips.

"Yes sir, that's good," I said, fidgeting in my seat, hoping not to stain my thong.

"When would you be able to start?" he asked.

"Right away, sir, my school let out this week," I answered quickly.

"All right, I'll give you a shot. We have a thirty-day probationary period here as a park employee," he added.

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir, I understand, I said excitedly.

"All right, let me get you the paperwork to fill out. We'll start your training tomorrow," he replied.

"Yes sir, just tell me the time. I replied.

I left the golf course on cloud nine, calling everyone I knew to share the good news. I was so proud of myself, although I wondered how much letting Ted look at my pussy helped me secure the job.

I was so excited the next day when I woke. I ate breakfast, showered, shaved, and looked for a nice outfit. Ted said I didn't have a dress code, and it got very hot out on the course, so I should dress accordingly. I picked out a white tube top, a black denim mini-skirt, and gym shoes. I put on a thin zip-up sweatshirt for the early morning hours. I arrived at the golf course on time and was handed off to Jennifer to be trained.

She took me through the sales process and taught me how to use the chip reader if patrons wanted to pay with a credit card. Our only mixed drink was a Bloody Mary, which she showed me how to make. Jennifer took me out to the cart and showed me where everything was before she rode with me on my first loop of the course.

It was early, and although a few golfers were out, I only had one sale.

"Rebecca, I know it's your first day, but you need to loosen up a bit when you stop for a group. I hate to say this, but the more skin you show and the bigger a flirt you are with the men, the more money you'll make," she said after we finished the first loop.

"Oh, okay, got it," I answered.

I set out on my own, determined to make some cash. I was flagged down by a group of men coming off the green. I took off my sweatshirt to show them the size of my boobs and smiled at them as they approached.

"Hi guys, how's your game going?" I asked, getting out of the cart.

"Not bad, sweetheart, an older man in his fifties answered.

"What's your name, cupcake?" another older man said, putting his hand on my bare waist.

"My name is Rebecca," I answered, removing his hand.

I filled their order with four beers and four cigars, a sixty-dollar order, and they left me a four-dollar tip. One of the men in the group, a handsome thirty-five-year-old, stood back and studied my reaction, sensing I was unhappy with my tip. And then, before I got back in the cart, he approached me.

"Hi Rebecca, my name is Jerry. It was nice to meet you," he said, gently patting me on the back.

I smiled at him, somewhat unnerved. He had a dominant aura; he smiled back, and the men drove off. I put my tip in my jar and drove on. I didn't feel much better the rest of the day, making only sixty dollars on my first day. I went home, discouraged that it wasn't as lucrative as I thought. I had a long, hot summer of being a low-paid server ahead of me. I called Amy when I got home, and she told me to raise my game and show my tits. She said the money would flow if I gave the men a peep show.

The next morning, I looked for an outfit to make me money. I put on a push-up bra, took a t-shirt, cut a slit from my neck to my bra, and put a piece of thick tape used to fix the skirt and pant hems on each side of the slit. The result was that the fabric of the t-shirt peeled away from my body and exposed the top half of my breasts. I gasped as I looked in the mirror. I found my Daisy Duke shorts and wiggled into them. The bottom of my butt cheeks stuck out, and a thin, worn strip covered my pussy. I looked obscene. I wore the sweatshirt again to avoid making my plan obvious to my co-workers.

I got to work, loaded my cart, and took off, shedding my sweatshirt shortly after. At the third hole, I encountered my first customers, a group of four younger men, probably in their twenties.

"Hi, guys," I said, jumping out of my cart.

"Whoa, are you a walking felony?" one of them exclaimed as they took in my long legs and barely covered midsection.

The men walked up, ogling my body, and discovered my barely covered tits as they circled me.

"Wow, nice rack, what's your name?" one of them asked.

"Oh, I'm Becca; I'm the new girl," I said, acting ditzy.

I felt a hand cup my bare butt cheek, and I jumped back.

"Don't," I yelled.

"Oh, you're one of those teases. Show it, but don't touch it. We get it," the guy said.

"Give us eight beers," another said.

I took out eight beers and handed them to the men; they gave me forty-two dollars on a forty-dollar tab. They walked away mumbling, and I wondered if I needed to let men feel me up to get a decent tip. Around eleven, I pulled around the corner and saw a single man on the tee box. He walked off the tee box and toward my cart, and I noticed it was the guy from yesterday, Jerry. I went to jump out of my cart, tripped, and launched out of my cart and onto the ground. Jerry grabbed his golf towel and ran to me. I was dazed and not sure if I was hurt or not, lying in a pile of dust and dirt. He grabbed my arm and lifted me as I tried to focus.

"Are you all right, Rebecca? Jerry asked excitedly.

I didn't answer; I was stunned and confused as I surveyed the damage to me. My breasts were hanging free outside my t-shirt, covered in brown dust. My t-shirt and shorts were also covered; one of my knees was cut, and I was a complete mess.

"Don't move; I'll get you cleaned up," Jerry said, taking charge.

Jerry reached inside my shirt from the bottom, pulling it away from my body. He then brushed the dirt and dust off it with his towel. Being dazed, I didn't think anything of it. He tucked his towel in his back pocket, grabbed the bottom of my shirt, and pulled it over my breasts.

"Oh, wait," I mouthed.

"Here, hold this," Jerry ordered.

I don't know why, but I held my t-shirt up around my neck, exposing my bare breasts to him. Jerry cupped my breast from the bottom and rubbed it with his hand, knocking off the dust, and then did the same to my other breast. I stood there in shock as he took out his golf towel and wiped off each of my breasts. My nipples were as hard as they could be. Then he grabbed a breast and fitted it back into my bra so it sat up nice, high, and firm. He did the same with the second breast, and when they were in my bra securely, he grabbed both nipples, twisted them, and then stretched them upwards; my tits bounced, and my nipples pointed towards the stars.

Then he brushed off my shorts, grabbing my butt cheeks and shaking them. My eyes shot open when I felt him unbutton my shorts, and my zipper was pulled down.

"Oh, oh, wait, I whispered, not finding my voice.

My feet danced in protest as he pulled my shorts down, revealing my white thong. Jerry pulled the front of my thong away from my body, looking at my bare pussy, before blowing on it to free it from dust, I guessed.

"Looks pretty clean down here, Jerry said.

He quickly got behind me, and I felt my thong being lowered to mid-thigh.

"What?" I mouthed again.

Jerry spread my butt cheeks and blew on my bunghole, causing me to jump.

"All clear here, Becca," he said as he pulled up my thong.

Jerry pulled up my Daisy Dukes and zipped and buttoned everything back up.

"Good as new," Jerry stated proudly.

"Thanks?" I uttered softly.

Jerry sat me on my cart, cleaned my knee, and bandaged it. I was beginning to regain focus, and my face turned red in embarrassment at what had just happened. I looked at Jerry in disbelief.

"That was some tumble you took. Are you sure you're all right?" Jerry said, concerned.

"I think so," I said.

We sat there for a few minutes as I caught my breath.

"Would you like something today?" I offered.

Again, he looked me up and down, undressing me with his eyes.

"Yes, very much so, but I'm sure it's not on your cart menu," he chuckled.

"We have lots of stuff," I said, his intention going over my head.

"No, Becca, I'm talking about your private menu," Jerry said, breaking a smile.

"Oh," I answered again, not getting the drift.

"I'll take a Diet Coke," he said.

I walked to the back of the cart to get his drink, and when I returned, four one-hundred-dollar bills were lying on my cart. Jerry handed me a ten as I stared at the pile of cash on my cart. I gave him his change and looked at him. Jerry gave me a five-dollar tip as I stared at the money.

"That's to pay for items off your menu," he smiled, and when I didn't respond, he put the bills back into his wallet.

Jerry smiled at me and walked back to his golf cart.

"Don't be a stranger now, Becca," he said, driving off the tee.

I got in my cart feeling very unsettled. I thought Jerry believed he was doing me a favor, but I felt somehow manhandled by the incident. I drove off and continued my day, but my mind was on Jerry and the four hundred dollars he laid out. "What other menu" was he talking about? I could sure use the money. I wasn't making a ton so far. I decided to ask him when I saw him next. I was driving the back nine when I noticed him putting and decided to wait by his cart.

"Well, hello, Becca, how are you doing?" he said warmly.

"Um, I'm all right, I guess," I returned a weak smile.

"I'm good right now," Jerry said, putting his putter away.

"Oh, but how about the other menu?" I said, trying to find out what it was.

Jerry stopped, wiped off his hands, and looked around.

"Sure, I'm interested," he said, looking me over again.

"So, what on the menu do you want today?" I asked, hoping to find out what this was all about.

"Well, today maybe just a quickie," he said calmly.

"My eyes opened wide as his meaning became clear.

"Oh my God, my personal menu, you meant sex," I hollered.

"Well, yes, what did you think I meant?" he said, laughing.

"I had no idea, oh my God," I continued, agitated.

"We've had a cart girl or two that could be talked into it," Jerry stated.

"Well, I have a boyfriend. I could never," I continued.

"What's having a boyfriend got to do with it?" he said calmly.

"What? Well, I'm faithful to him," I said proudly.

"Oh, so because he stuck his cock in you, he owns your pussy now?" Jerry asked.

"Something like that, yes," I told him confidently.

"Oh, so you've fallen for the age-old lie men tell," Jerry laughed.

"What's that?" I asked, clueless.

"That your pussy is not your own but controlled by the man you're with. God put that between your legs to decide who you can share it with. If God had wanted men to own a pussy, he'd have put one between our legs," Jerry explained.

I thought about what he said, and it made perfect sense. It was mine; my boyfriend wanted me to share it with his three roommates on a drunken Friday night, but I had said no. So, it was mine to control. After all, my boyfriend was getting enough of my pussy to make him happy.

"I'd never thought about it that way before," I told him.

"Most women don't and live sexually unfulfilled their whole life," he said.

Jerry took out his wallet, pulled out four one-hundred-dollar bills, and offered them to me.

"I don't think I can. I've never done it like for money before," I said nervously, looking at the bills.

"The act is the same no matter the reason. If you feel it's okay, then it's okay," Jerry reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess," I said, staring at the cash.

Jerry pushed the money forward more. I looked around, closed my eyes, and reached for it. When I opened my eyes, the cash was in my hand.

"Oh God," I sighed.

"Okay, up past the next tee box, there's a big clump of bushes. We can go back there and be out of sight," Jerry explained.

"Um, okay?" I replied nervously.

I followed Jerry around the bushes, and we were hidden from view. Jerry got out of his cart while I sat there, frozen, before Jerry motioned me out of my cart.

"Okay, Becca, we can't do it with your clothes on," Jerry said softly.

I slowly undressed, taking off my t-shirt and bra, wiggling out of my daisy dukes, and peeling off my thong that had a large wet spot on it. Jerry looked at me, his eyes darting all over as he drank in my nudity.

"Fuck, are you fine?" he whispered, motioning me to his golf cart.

Jerry laid me on the seat of his golf cart, my legs dangling off the edge. He lifted my legs, put one on each shoulder, and leaned into me as his face disappeared between my legs. My pussy was boiling when Jerry's tongue split my lips apart.

"Oh, oh," I moaned.

No one had ever done this to me before, my boyfriend telling me it was meant for his cock, not his tongue. My back...