Stories : A tennis date? Hmmm never done that before…
I don’t know why I asked. I normally only say I play tennis to show guys that I’m not lazy and give a reason for why I’m so skinny. Yeah, I play tennis, but I’m not that good. Ok, I’m decent and have a pretty good serve. But, he was pretty studly so I wanted to emphasize the sporty side of me. He had that rugged, Brawny paper towel guy kind of look. Hairy chest, facial hair, warm brown eyes, short hair. Just a man.
“Ok. I’m game.”
We meet up on a Saturday afternoon around 6. He reserved the stadium court, for privacy I assume.
“Less people to see me fuck up.” I thought
We stretch and he notices that I’m pretty flexible. I also catch him looking at my butt a couple of times.
He better, I work hard on my ass.
We practice our serves and returns, then end up hitting the ball around, not really playing for points.I feel like I’m giving him a run for his money, hitting the ball with more finesse than power just to stay alive and not mess up.
As he takes a break and wipes the sweat from his brow, I see him start to towel off his arms.
Can’t believe I never noticed.
Those beautifully sculpted biceps. Toned triceps. Forearms with a baby’s head for a diameter. Shoulders that cast shadows on his arms. A slight dusting of hair on his forearms. I assume it’s so slight because the skin is stretched so tight by his musculature. He is the reason why sleeveless shirts were invented.
He caught my staring.
I turn away and fiddle around with my water bottle as I see him half smile. He goes back to his bag and I try to think of a way to save face. I get my phone, see that its 7:58 and notice how dark the courts have become. In fact, they are also pretty quiet. Normally you hear balls being hit, people swearing, or at least footsteps. But it was just so quiet. As I turn around to proclaim my discovery of solitude, he turns his head quickly.
“My ass again?”
Except now he is walking over to me, with that same sly half smile. Like a man who wants to be a horny teenager again. I tell him it’s getting dark and ask if he wants to play some more.
“Yeah I want to play.”
As I reach for my racquet, he pushes my hand away.
“Nah. I’m done with tennis.”
“But you said you wanted to play?”
He takes my hand, puts it behind his neck, and pushes his lips against mine, pulling my tongue out and against his. I stroke his right arm, starting from his bulging shoulder down to his bicep. Squeezing and rubbing to prove to myself that these are actual muscles. Giving him a slight push, he sits down on the bench and I straddle him. I lean in as he gropes my back with his rough hands. I kiss his lips which are tender and soft but feel his beard, rough against my smooth skin. I leave his lips and kiss him on the side of his neck, at the end of his jawline. He clenches my shirt as I lick his spot.
I slide my hands up his shirt and grab the swollen muscles of his pecs. They feel so huge in my hands that I almost forget the soft and delicate chest hair, creased in the valley of his chest. I feel the softness go down his abs and to his waistband. I slide a finger underneath and feel him shiver.
“Your hands are cold.”
“Oh. Sorry. I’ll use something warmer.”
I get off him and on my knees. I pull his stiffy out and start sucking.
Drinking in this massive cock, with its throbbing head, begging to be licked and kissed.I slide my wet tongue along his thick shaft and can imagine how it would slide in my willing hole. He strokes my hair and when I deep throat him he grabs it as if to hold on. I take in all of his cock and feels it swell in me some more.
I start tugging at his junk as I come back up to kiss him. I re-straddle him after I slide my white tennis shorts off and reveal my bare ass.
“Is that a jock strap?”
“Duh, its tennis.”
I feel it pressing up against my crack and then pain.
I tug his shirt off and grab hold of his chest hair as he pumps the wet shaft into me. I suck on his lips while he slams his cock deep in me, hitting every spot I never knew existed.
He picks me up. He takes me to the net and bends me over it. I grab hold of the loose netting under the white tape and he plows me deeper than ever, filling me up with hot jock cock. He finds his rhythm and I match it, perfect for him to pump and his hand to stroke me.
“Fuck man. “ He moans, while I feel his legs quiver with anticipation.
He gives me a few more pumps while losing his breath. I give in to what I have been holding in and shoot all over the net. I arch my back and he falls on me.
Clutching me and trying to catch his breath.He pulls out, puts his waistband up to its original position, goes to get his racquet and throws me the towel.
After wiping up, walking back to our cars we give each other a final, sweaty hug. He kisses me tenderly and asks
“Same time next week?”