Mind Games (Part 2/2) - Sex Stories

Mind Games (Part 2/2)

The next morning, I wondered if it had all been a dream. Mats reverted to his usual self. There was nothing soft about him. We went through our standard routine and had it not been for the ache he’d left in me, I might have believed it hadn’t happened at all. On one hand I was happy – we were back to normal - but at the same time, the encounter felt like unfinished business. It was too big a thing to ignore. I simply couldn’t sweep it under the rug. There was no rug in the world big enough. But we persevered. I gave him nothing and he gave me nothing. We went back to training like he was just my coach. The first grass court tournament in the season came too soon and my mind was all over the place. I was struggling with an unexpected amount of guilt. I knew that Jack had been far less than faithful towards me but we were still together in some fucked-up way. I kept calling him to try to end things but his phone always ran to voicemail. The warm-up to Wimbledon was tough. I didn’t feel the buzz I’d had in Paris and for the first time, I found it difficult to adjust to the grass court. The bounce of the ball seemed so erratic and fast and I found myself losing in the early stages of tournaments which really shouldn’t have troubled me. The more I tried not to think of what had passed between Mats and myself, the more firmly the memory became imprinted in my mind. It was so hard to try to get back to seeing him in the way I’d seen him prior to that fateful night. I couldn’t ...

... forget the feel of his hands; the way he looked when he was inside me. It made my mouth dry and my concentration falter. He was doing better than me. There was nothing I could get from his impassive, no-nonsense attitude. It was like he had two different sides. I started to wonder if maybe I hadn’t affected him as profoundly as he had me. Maybe I’d been a disappointment. And then I hated myself. It was me who’d wanted our relationship to stay the same and now I was desperate for anything; a look, a touch, a smile, if only to reassure me that it wasn’t all in my head. But Mats remained true to his word. He became even tougher, if anything. We were training nonstop, pushing through minor injuries and not speaking about anything but tennis. Wimbledon came around three weeks after the end of the French Open and in that time, I’d failed to claim victory in any of the warm-up tournaments but felt confident about my chances. I forced myself to stop thinking about Jack and did my best to put Mats out of my head. The more I focused on Wimbledon, the clearer my mind got. Going into the tournament, I wasn’t too nervous. My bronze at the Olympics had been on grass and I’d always felt it was my best surface to play on. I knew that expectations were low. I tried not to read any speculation but Mats encouraged me to, saying it would give me the drive to prove the critics wrong. Generally, the analysts seemed to think I wasn’t going to do well. Apparently, the pressure of recent success had ...