| Three men went out on Sunday to play some golf. On the fourth hole, Fred chipped a shot into the rough. "You all play on ahead," he insisted. "I'll catch up with you." Off they went, but after half an hour had gone by with no sign of their friend, Charlie said, "I'll go check on him." The last guy played on for a while, but couldn't help wondering what on earth had happened to his companions. So, he too, finally turned back to check matters out. An astonishing sight greeted him when he returned to the fourth hole: poor Fred was bent over the backseat of his golf cart, with his buddy energetically screwing him up the arse. "Charlie, Charlie, what the hell are you doing!" he yelled, breaking into a run. "It was horrible," gasped a red-faced Charlie. "When I got here, Fred had a massive heart attack." "You're supposed to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation" ," cried the third guy, "and a heart massage, you idiot." "I know that," retorted Charlie indignantly. "How do you think this whole sex thing got started? He has such a lovely lips and chest. That and I misheard him after he came round when he said something about he wanted a hole in one!" |