Love All – A Tennis Erotica. Category: Long and Satisfying.
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Welcome to ‘Love All – A Tennis Erotica.’ What you are about to read is erotic fiction, a fantasy of mine which has its roots in my real-life tennis lessons when I was a teenager. If you’d like to read my rambling account of the true backstory, you can catch yourself up here. If not, just plunge into the story below. This is approximately a 20-minute read.
***
One Saturday in early May, Simon, the tennis pro who was coaching me, was unable to give me my usual morning coaching session as he was involved in a tournament and would be travelling at the time of my usual lesson. He was keen that I shouldn’t miss a session, though, as I had some tournaments in the diary coming up and had suggested that we meet later, in the early evening. The clubhouse would be shut, but he would arrange to get the keys from the steward, and we could use one of the three courts, which had floodlighting, for our session. Knowing that this meant cancelling plans with my friends, I was initially grumpy, but on reflection, I realised that this would mean that I would be completely alone with Simon for the first time.
Simon was a gorgeous older man. He was, I would guess, in his late 30s – approaching 40 certainly and was calm and reassuring and had very, very sexy legs. OK, I know that all pro tennis players have strong, defined legs, but his just made my teenage heart miss a beat – muscular and with a light covering of soft blonde hair. And that backside in his tennis shorts…
***
Simon was always, and I mean ALWAYS, completely and frustratingly appropriate with me. I had done my best to flirt with him, but he generally just laughed at my antics and made me do some horrible drill that I hated as punishment for ‘being cheeky.’ Still, I knew he was presently single as he and his long-term girlfriend had agreed to go their separate ways several months ago; she was fed up with the hours he kept on the tennis courts.
On arrival, Simon was clearly a little jaded from what had already been a busy day for him. He brightened when he saw me trudging along towards the door in the court fencing, ready for our session. I dropped my racket bag by the net post and exchanged some pleasantries with Simon while we went through my warm-up routine, me being all smiley and giving him sideways looks that I hoped were ‘smouldering’ or something like that. I had chosen to wear one of my skater-style skirts along with matching white boy-shorts underneath for the sole reason that I thought they made my bum look really hot. Shameless.
Warm-up out of the way, Simon announced that he had been thinking about me on the drive back (he’d been thinking about me!!) I tried to hide my disappointment when he clarified this by saying that he’d been mulling over which shots my game specifically needed some remedial work on. My running forehand was always on the rotation for some close technical scrutiny, but today he had decided that we needed to spend time working on my overhead smash technique.
***
Simon positioned himself on the other side of the court and, with a mini basket of balls by his side, began to pop them up, high over the net to my side to smash back down. I have always found this a challenging shot to pull off with accuracy and power (and that’s a true story…)
After a few minutes, with some patchy hitting, Simon came around the net and explained (again) about the need to get rotation into my hips and shoulders as I followed the shot through. He popped a ball up off his racquet a couple of times and demonstrated, then had me do the same, him flicking the ball up while he stood to the side of me.
‘Better, ’ he said. ‘Better!’ Then, in a ‘Henry Higgins’ Victorian accent,’ I think she’s got it! By George, she’s got it!’
He went back around the net, picked up a ball and popped it high into the air over my side of the net. I leapt, trying to keep my eye on the ball, which was not all that easy under the floodlights, while focusing intently on the upper body rotation that I needed to generate power through the shot. I struck the ball as cleanly as I ever have, and it rocketed down onto the other side of the court, about half a metre from the baseline. Nobody would stand a chance of returning that!
Sadly, I was unable to bask in the glory of my perfectly executed smash as I landed awkwardly and felt a sudden sharp twinge in my ankle. I collapsed in a dramatic heap on the court, grabbing my ankle and whimpering.
***
Simon was at my side in a matter of seconds, crouching down and solicitously asking where it was hurting. He made me stretch my leg out and popped my tennis shoe off. He held my foot in his big, strong hands and gently ran his thumbs up until “ouch!”
‘You’ve rolled it slightly. I don’t think it’s bad, and you could probably walk it off, but I don’t think we should take any risks. Let’s go and sit in the clubhouse for 20 minutes and get a cold pack on it.’
Simon helped me up and got me to put my arm around his shoulders, which I was delighted to do, while he put his free hand around my waist and hobbled me to the clubhouse. I leaned into him as much as possible and was sure to make a few pathetic little noises of discomfort so that he would tighten his grip and support more of my weight.
Having deposited me on one of the sofas in the lounge area, he went into the pro’s room and came back with a cold pack, which he placed on me with a hand towel over the top. ‘Here,’ he said, ‘hold that there – gently – I’ll just go and grab our stuff from the court.’
The twisted ankle was a literal pain, but I now saw that I might be able to turn my misfortune to advantage.
***
As soon as Simon was gone, I shuffled myself around on the sofa trying to arrange myself in a way that I thought would make me look desirable; making sure to hitch up the hem of my skirt so that my tight boy shorts were clearly visible but in such a way that it did not look deliberate. Hopefully.
I reached up and pulled out a couple of hair grips and then shook my ponytail free from the band and scrunchie which had been holding it. I pulled my fingers through my hair vigorously, trying to fluff it up a bit and arrange it so that it fell across one shoulder, leaving the exposed side of my neck looking, I hoped, irresistibly kissable.
I pulled off the trainer and sock from my uninjured foot.
Simon came back in carrying my bag and racket in one hand and his in the other, and did a slight double-take as he saw me.
‘Not thinking you’ll be able to play anymore today, then?’ He asked, pointing to the back of his own head.
‘It was feeling a bit uncomfortable, so I thought I’d shake it out.’
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair down before,’ he said. ‘You’ve got beautiful hair. How’s the ankle feeling?’
‘Sore, but I think I will be OK if I rest here for a bit.’ His eyes flicked downwards momentarily, and I could tell that he had clocked my white panties.
***
‘I’ll give your dad a call and get him to pick you up. It’s probably best not to push it. Stay off it as much as you can for a couple of days, and I’ll see you again on Tuesday evening. I’ve got a bit of paperwork I can do while I’m here – save me having to do it tomorrow.’
I thought quickly.
‘Oh, I think I’d be better if I just rested it a little bit longer. If it’s OK, you could give me a lift home when you’ve done your paperwork?’
He looked at me quizzically. ‘OK, if you’re happy just sitting there for the next 45 minutes?’
‘You could sit here too and keep me company? You could do your paperwork here, I mean. Don’t bother calling Dad. I’d be happy if you could drop me off on your way home.’
So, Simon went back into the pro’s room, fetched his paperwork and came and sat on the other side of the sofa. Right at the other side, I noticed with frustration. After a couple of minutes, I shuffled down a bit and plonked my foot into his lap. He looked at me askance.
‘Could you do what you were doing to it on the court, please, with your thumbs? I think that would help.’
‘It made you go ‘ouch.’’
‘Yes, but I do think it would help… please?’ I said in my best wheedling tone. I wiggled my toes at him.
He laughed. ‘This is not getting my paperwork done.’
***
He shuffled around a little so that he could take my foot in both hands and began to gently manipulate it with those long, strong fingers, running the thumbs slowly up the edges of my foot and onto my ankle. I watched what he was doing whilst stealing little looks at his face as he worked away.
I stretched the other leg out and pressed the ball of my foot against his muscular thigh, letting my knee fall away to the back of the sofa.
He glanced up – not at my face, but in the direction of my thighs, and I could see that his face was colouring up. He cleared his throat.
‘How’s that now? Better? You know, I think I will give your father a call – I really need to get on with this paperwork, Jaimie.’
‘Please keep doing that! Please! It’s really helping!’
‘What’s going on? Have you really hurt your ankle, or is this another prank? I’ll make you do burpees if you’re messing about!’
I made a comedy pout. ‘I can’t believe that you think I’m fibbing!’
His hands had stopped and were now just holding my foot, cradling it.
‘That feels so nice. Please don’t stop.’
***
I leaned forwards and took his right hand, pulling it softly towards me before putting it down on my shin.
‘Jaimie, I can’t do this.’
‘I’m 18, you know? I’m an adult.’
‘Yes, but you know what I mean. It’s totally inappropriate; I have my career and reputation…’ Notwithstanding his protests, I noticed with a thrill and shiver of excitement that his hands were moving again, his strong fingers stroking the silky skin of my lower leg.
‘We’re alone,’ I pointed out. ‘Nobody here. Oh please, Simon, keep doing what you’re doing, it feels so good… I promise I’ll work extra hard next session! I will never, never, ever say a word to anyone – scouts honour!’
Despite himself, he laughed. ‘Jaimie, I really can’t…’ I ignored him and took his hand, moving it up a bit further, to my knee.
‘Jaimie, it’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive, really, you are, I mean, I do, but just stop and listen to what I’m saying.’ As he spoke, I moved his hand around so that his fingers were resting in the warm hollow behind my knee. Despite the protests, his fingers began gently stroking the soft flesh.
‘You are so gorgeous… this has to be another wind-up though… Tease the older guy; make him hot and flustered and then have a laugh about him with your friends later.’
I made the comedic pout again. ‘That is so totally not true. Honestly. I would never say anything or do anything to make fun of you.’
***
‘Fuck. It’s been so long,’ he said under his breath. He paused, and I feared that the moment might be slipping away. I sat fully up, leaned forward and angled my face in towards his. Still nothing, so I put my hand down on top of his and moved it further up to my thigh. He did not pull away.
There was another brief pause, and then he moved in and kissed me. My lips parted and, confident that his hand was not going to be withdrawn, I lifted mine and grabbed the front of his T-shirt in my fist, pulling towards me. When we both came up for air, I let go of him and reclined back on the sofa, my head resting against the armrest. I let my knees fall open. ‘Come down here. Please.’
This time, there was no protest. Simon kicked his trainers off, swivelled in the seat and then, gently and carefully, positioned himself over me. I drew my knees up and clamped them on either side of his hips. Pulling him down, with my arms around his neck, I felt something bump between my legs. It was a very hard something currently contained in his training shorts, but which sent a thrill of excitement and trepidation through me. Was this it? Was I really going to be fucked by this man? This MAN. Old enough to be my father, big, strong and muscular. Experienced but so gentle as well.
***
He was being very gentle right now. He propped himself up by one of his big arms as he stroked the side of my face with his fingers, then traced the bridge of my nose and the outline of my lips. I kissed his fingers as they brushed across my mouth.
‘We can stop Jaimie. We should stop, we really should…’
‘Shuuuush!’ I put my fingers to his lips. ‘Make love to me, Liam. Please? It will take my mind off my ankle.’
He laughed again. ‘I swear if there is nothing wrong with your ankle, I will make you do burpees for the whole of the next session.’ He was running his fingers through my hair now.
‘We could just do this from now on – forget about the tennis?’ I pulled a quizzical face to suggest that it was a thought worth considering.
‘While your parents pay me for my time? Your turn to be quiet, I think!’ He bent his head again and kissed me deeply. I ran my hands down the sides of his back, marvelling at the hardness and definition of his muscles, tensed as he supported his weight lest he should squish me. I hooked an ankle over his hips and pulled him down. Again, the hardness pressed against my inner thighs. Simon grunted and, breaking away, breathed hard into the side of my neck.
***
‘I know what will stop you from talking rubbish…’ Simon pushed himself up to a kneeling position and, with a single movement, pulled his tee up and over his head. He was beautifully put together; lean and muscular with the start of an early summer tee-shirt tan. Shuffling down further, I realised what he was going to do and almost gave a little squeal of excitement. I drew my knees up and held them with my palms. Simon put a hand on the back of both of my knees and pushed a little further so that my knees were almost to the level of my chest, but to my sides, exposing myself most shamelessly.
‘Hold your legs there,’ Simon grunted as he shuffled to get his head down to the right level. I sensed that the niceties were now over and hooked my forearms behind my knees. What I had set in motion had reached take-off velocity.
I had half expected Simon to just bury his face and devour me. Not for the first time, I was delighted to find that the gentle way was Simon’s preferred approach. He kissed around the inside of my thighs then, hitching my skirt up and pulling the waistband of my boy-shorts down he continued his trail of kisses around my navel, poking the tip of his tongue into it before moving back downwards. He moved his tongue across the fabric of the shorts and inhaled, savouring.
***
These need to come off. Now.’ He said quite gruffly. I obligingly lifted my bottom a little and slipped the shorts down my thighs and off over my feet before dropping them on the floor beside us. I re-hooked my arms and pulled my legs up and back.
‘Beautiful,’ he said before dipping his head back down. There were a couple more kisses at the crease at the top of my thighs, then, after a momentary pause, I felt his soft tongue on my perineum, which caused me a little jolt of pleasure and excitement. The tongue moved slowly, very, very slowly upwards. There was just enough pressure so that the tip slipped between my inner labia, dragged across the entrance to my vagina and continued upwards until he found my little clitoris, hard and tinging and sparking like tiny electrical shocks as soon as his mouth found it.
He fastened his lips over my little clit and sucked gently at it, occasionally flicking the tip of his tongue across it. I felt myself becoming saturated. My juices mingled with his saliva, and he stopped periodically to fasten his mouth lower down and lap, lick, and swallow.
He was absolutely right, you know? I had lost all ability or desire to come out with smart-arse comments. All I was capable of right now was little moans and whimpers of utter pleasure.
I came. Of course I came! God, did I come… I shuddered and held his head as he kept up the rhythm of sucking on my swollen clitoris whilst I jolted and shuddered until eventually I was still, my heart pounding and my breath ragged.
***
Simon moved back up my body, and soon his handsome face was inches from mine. I craned forward, kissing him and tasting myself, painted wetly across his lips and face.
While the further kissing was going on, I slipped my hands from his hips and let them fall lower. I found the waistband of his shorts and, slipping my fingers in, found also the band of his under-shorts. We continued to kiss deeply while I slowly hooked his shorts downwards. Suddenly, I felt something slap against the underside of my wrist. I broke off from the kiss and stared into Simon’s eyes. ‘That must have been so uncomfortable – is that better now?’
He didn’t respond but after meeting my gaze he busied himself kissing my cheeks and neck as I took his cock – so hard and, well, big – in both my hands. He really was a ‘talented’ boy and I was momentarily slightly anxious about how much of it there was and how I would get it inside my relatively inexperienced pussy.
I gently stroked and squeezed it, two-handed, and Simon nuzzled away at my neck, his movements becoming a little less assured.
‘Thank you for my lovely orgasm, coach. I think it might be your turn now, though?’
Simon made no reply but returned his mouth to mine as I took the head of his pulsing cock and stroked it up and down my wet sex, using the tip to separate the wet lips and then running it in a tiny circle over my clit which was still tingling and fizzing. I shuddered. “Put it in me now. Please, give it to me, all of it.’
***
I pulled my legs back up again and tilted my hips. The head of his cock bumped against my inner thigh then brushed across my pussy again. Another shudder. I reached down and caught is and, dragged the tip the length of my slot before positioning it at the entrance of my vagina.
‘Please?’
Simon pushed forward slowly. I gasped as I felt him entering me, centimetre by centimetre. He felt huge and my little pussy stretched to accommodate. Fortunately, I was completely soaking, which was a very good thing. As he continued to slide in, I felt that momentary flicker of fear that only women know about – mixed in with the lust – I wanted more, all of it. Like the alcoholic who wants the last drink of the bottle, I wanted the last centimetre of his cock, but I was scared that it would be too much, too much and that it would hurt me.
There was a brief pause, and I thought that must be it. Thank god – that’s plenty, more than enough!
Simon adjusted his weight a little, then pushed forward again. Fuck, there was more to go: he felt massive and just as I was feeling like I couldn’t possibly be any fuller I felt him reach the hilt, his soft pubic hair tickling my smooth, shaved pussy and his heavy balls resting against my drenched perineum.
I was panting, eyes closed, trying to get a grip, really, as my body worked on accommodating what was now, somehow, completely inside it. Simon groaned. ‘Oh my god, you feel incredible. You’re so tight.’
***
***
We lay like that for a few moments, adjusting and noticing little sensations as each other moved a fraction. I put my hands around the back of his neck, and my eyes met his.
‘That feels so… so fucking big. But amazing. I love it.’
Simon began to move, really such tiny movements initially. We held each other’s gaze as slowly, steadily, the backswing increased and the movements turned from little flutters to full-length thrusts. The sensations were extraordinary to me; I wanted this more than anything, but also felt a bit like I was offering myself as a sacrifice; my insides being worked over, a piledriver between my thighs kneading me into oblivion. Simon was so big it was uncomfortable, but I wouldn’t have wanted less; for him to be diminished in any way. I wanted it all, every last millimetre and determined that I was going to take it; all of it. To do otherwise would be to accept that I was not yet a real woman, and he was too much for me. Not going to happen…
I closed my eyes and let out a long, low moan, accepting my fate and submitting to it.
I wanted to come. I wanted to come so badly I could feel it like an explosion inside me, willing to happen, but it wouldn’t. It was as if Simon was too big, and whilst he was driving me into a lust-filled oblivion, my orgasm was being stifled by the intensity of the sensation of being so filled. It was too intense, if that makes any sense.
Somewhat abruptly, Simon stopped and backed out, panting. I gasped.
‘What’s wrong? What’s the matter?’ Suddenly, the feeling of being overfilled was overtaken by the sensation of being empty. I wanted the feeling of fullness again, immediately and urgently.
‘Nothing… nothing, You’re… It’s too intense. I don’t want to come this quickly.’
I pulled him down again. ‘I don’t mind, I don’t mind! Come, I want it, if you want to, just do it!’
Simon shook his head, and a few drips of perspiration fell from his face onto mine.
‘No. If we are doing this, and we do seem to be doing it, I want to do it properly. Turn over.’ I looked blankly as he shuffled back. ‘Roll over. Come on! You’ve wiggled your arse at me enough times when I’ve been standing behind you – don’t think I didn’t notice. Well, I’m calling your bluff. Get your arse in the air – now!’
***
Simon got off the sofa and stood. His beautiful, huge cock curving upwards and slick; wet with my juices. He slipped his shorts down his thighs and kicked them off as I rolled over and obediently raised myself up onto all fours.
‘Get this off,’ said Simon, tugging at my top. The new assertive, less gentlemanly Simon was a thrilling revelation. I tugged my top up and over my head, then reached behind me and unclipped my sports bra, casting it aside.
‘Is that better?’ I asked, ‘Is that what you want?’
Simon climbed back on the sofa and reached around the front of me, cupping my boobs in his big hands. I heard him groan at precisely the same time as I did. Fuck. I felt like I was really losing control of myself, but I didn’t care. Somehow, the fact that I had submitted myself to this older and more experienced man relieved me of the need to remain in control of myself. If I lost my mind to lust and depravity, I knew I was safe and taken care of.
Simon let go and I felt his hands on either side of my arse then, oh god! His face, plunged between my cheeks. I felt his breath coming hard against my sex and the tip of his nose pressed against the little rosebud of my arse. He inhaled long and slowly as if he wanted to suck all of me in through his nose.
***
‘Oh god, oh fuck.’ I heard him whispering as he inhaled deeply over and over. Then his tongue again, slickly working up and down across the exposed portion of my pussy – so wet now, I could feel it on my thighs and the cheeks of my arse and him, licking, lapping, seemingly completely insatiable for the scent and taste of me.
The tip of his tongue now, wetly probing, circling, pressing against my arse. I let out a moan as the sensations sent a shiver of tingles through my whole body. Simon clamped his mouth over my little hole, pressing his tongue. I felt the tip of it inside, his breath from his nose coming hot and rapidly as he pushed and pushed, penetrating then circling.
If he had carried on, I would have come. The sensations which he was producing in my spasming little arse were causing a chain-reaction in my pussy and it was building up to an almighty orgasm that I wasn’t entirely sure wouldn’t cause me to pass out.
Not for the first time that evening, Simon stopped just when I felt I would be overwhelmed and swept away by the feelings building inside me. There was a pause, and I felt the powerful fingers digging into the firm globes of my bum. Then the hot tip of his cock again. He dragged it up and down through my length of my pussy, no doubt coating it afresh with the copious fluid which felt like was flowing from me like a stream.
‘Simon?’
I heard a soft grunt then: ‘yeah.. yes. What is it, baby-girl? Are you OK??’
‘If you want to fuck me, just do it.’
‘I thought that’s what I have been doing…’
***
‘No, you made love to me, and it was amazing and beautiful, and I loved it. If you want to just fuck me now… I just want to say, do it. Fuck me Simon, if that’s what you’d like.’
Silence.
‘Really. I know you are a lovely, gentle guy, and you don’t want to hurt me, but I’m not a china doll; I won’t break.’
Simon didn’t reply but I felt the tip of his cock pressing against the entrance to my vagina then, quicker than before, assertive and with big, manly hands holding me powerfully by the hips, he thrust into me to the hilt in one movement. The sensation was overwhelming, and I let out a little yelp, then a long moan right from the back of my throat. This time, I didn’t think I would have trouble coming.
After a few slow strokes, Simon settled into steady, deep, powerful thrusts, driving my face forward and against the arm of the sofa. I was moaning with every breath now, my entire consciousness focussed on the huge cock which was plunging in and out of me, relentless and forceful.
I felt fingers in my hair and then being pulled backwards and up. I steadied my hands against the arm of the sofa as Simon slapped into me, the changed angle and my wetness producing obscene squelching noises.
The new angle also meant that with every thrust the pressure from the head of that mighty cock was focussed on the sensitive front wall of my vagina taking the already extraordinary sensations up another couple of notches.
I felt like the whole space between my hips was fizzing like a shaken bottle of champagne with the pressure building towards an inevitable explosion.
***
Simon continued to pull on my hair with one hand and then reached around and put his huge hand on my throat, not exerting any real pressure but enough to telegraph the message that I was indeed now being fucked and fucked properly. That was what hurtled me over the edge. I was undone: I came and cried out. Moans from deep within the core of me and uncontrollable shudders as my insides turned into a firework display of shocks and explosions.
I was done for, but the thrusting continued. I had slumped forward as I came, but Simon had persevered.
If Simon hadn’t been holding me firmly, I would have collapsed in a heap. He was breathing heavily now, and the thrusts became more urgent before he too crashed over the edge. His hips were pressed tightly to my backside as I felt the pulsing cock jerk and twitch inside me.
We sort of fell to the sofa together, he at least taking the trouble not to crush my smaller frame under that weight of hard muscle, slick with sweat.
He adjusted himself so that I was on the inside with my back to the sofa and he beside me, facing me. When I moved my thighs together, all I could feel was wet slickness. His semen and my fluids mixed and seeping from me.
Simon had one arm under my neck, supporting it while with the other he caressed my face, neck, arm, back, and hip. Little shudders ran through me like tiny mini-orgasms, thrilling to the touch and still basking in the afterglow of what had taken place.
‘How’s your ankle now?’ He eventually asked.
‘Oh, much better, I think. I might need you to massage it quite regularly now to make sure it heals properly, though.’
***
Love, Jaimie XX
Links and Stuff.
Who doesn’t love a hot tennis player? Being an admirer of both the male and female form is a definite boon when tennis season rolls around. Here, and here, for your viewing pleasure, are some of the finest specimens. Mixed doubles anyone?
Speaking for myself, I would love to be stuck in the middle of a Carlos Alcaraz/Katie Boulter sandwich…
2 thoughts on “Love All – A Tennis Erotica”
I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve read this one in the last month. Something about it just pushes a load of buttons I had no idea I had, I can’t get enough of it.
Thank-you Katie. I think this is one of my favourite things I’ve written so far so I’m thrilled that you enjoy it. Jx