Anyone For Tennis? - Sex Stories

Anyone For Tennis?

... it. Too fast and too accurate for her.

I thought, “There's still life in the old dog!”

But that was the highlight of my game; she was much more agile and far too good for me. By the fifth game, I was four down, at love-thirty, when I hit another ace serve. Kirsten twisted and stretched to get it, but was overbalanced, fell heavily onto the tarmac, and stayed down.

Full of guilt, I rushed to her and kneeled at her side.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah, shite, fannybaws. Everything hurts.”

Looking a bit queasy, she sat up, inspected her racquet arm, and rubbed the grazes a bit before looking at her leg and inspecting another grazed area. Neither showed any sign of bleeding, but the redness was obvious and meant she would be very sore the next day.

I stood up and offered her my hand, which she grasped firmly as I pulled her to her feet. However, as soon as she put weight on her legs, it was clear she was in pain, and she immediately sat down again. I lowered myself down beside her and asked where it hurt.

Kirsten stroked the inside of her thigh.

“Here, I’ve pulled a muscle.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, Stefan, massage the area, please.”

So I placed my hands on her skin and started to knead her soft flesh. The knuckles of one hand were under the hem of her little skirt. I felt a bit uncomfortable being in such proximity to a very young woman in a public place, but Kirsten seemed unfazed and laid back on the court, completely at ...

... ease.

“Up a bit, please, Stefan.”

I shifted the work area further up her leg. Now both sets of knuckles were under her skirt.

“Up a bit more, please.”

This second shift left the knuckle of my little finger rubbing up and down her panties.

“Keep going; that’s just right.”

Her eyes closed, her breathing deepened, and I realised my massaging had become more than a bit of physio.

“Harder, please, harder.”

I pushed my hand deeper into her crotch. There was no pretence now; I knew what she wanted.

Her ending came, but there was nothing dramatic. Her leg muscles went into spasm, her ankles drummed on the ground, her breaths came in short bursts, and for a few seconds, her back arched off the ground.

“Thank you, Stefan; that was bonnie.”

Kirsten smiled broadly, then lifted a hand to her mouth and blew a kiss at me. It was tender and erotic.

I helped her up again, but it was obvious she was still in pain; the damaged muscle was real.

“How are you getting home?”

"Normally, I walk back; it’s about fifteen minutes to my parents’ house.”

“Then I think I should give you a lift; you can’t walk that far in pain.”

“Thanks, Stefan. I’ll take your offer.”

Half supporting her as she hobbled, we walked back to my car. All the way, I was conscious of the warmth of her body pressed against me, my mind constantly flashing back to the orgasm I had given her a few moments earlier.

As I drove out from the car park, I glanced across at her lovely legs ...