Racquetball Dyke by loyalsock - Sex Stories

Racquetball Dyke by loyalsock

... reflection was smiling at me through the mirror in her locker. I was so embarrassed. I felt like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. After this incident, the last thing I wanted to do was lead her on any more then I might have already done. So I deliberately dressed down. I wore a plain white T-shirt in stead of my normal sport top and I traded in my soccer shorts that hung close to my thighs for a pair of baggy blue shorts which weren't the least bit flattering. Linda came up behind me and put a hand on my shoulder and asked, &#034Are you about ready? The court is ours in a few minutes. We should get going?&#034 &#034Sure, just let me fill my water bottle.&#034 I struggled to say why trying to act normal. Playing racquetball with Linda was now different. It wasn't her fault, it was mine. Linda had done nothing wrong. It was my perception of her that had changed. A short conversation with Lilly had made me thinking that every move or jester made by Linda had a sexual undertone. I felt like a &#034Homo-Phobe&#034, and I hated it. Needless to say it was difficult for me to concentrate. My greatest asset had become my speed, which I'm sure is due to my 5'2&#034 frame, which only has to carry about 105 pounds. Normally I fly around the court, but not tonight. My moves were sluggish and non-decisive. Clearly my mind was not the game. While Linda prepared to serve, I watched the pendulum motion for her hips instead of the ball. I took note of every jester she ...

... made, whether it was to rub a sore muscle or to wipe the sweat from her brow. I felt Linda was flirting with me, and every move was for my benefit. Linda's asset to the game was her shear size and strength. Her serves were strong enough to leave echoes in the court for several seconds. But any player will tell you that you need more then strength to win, you also have to have speed and accuracy. Through precision ball handling I can normally run her ragged around the court. In the past she had never been a real challenge for me. Our matches were little more then a warm-up or an opportunity for me to experiement. But not tonight. My lack of concentration had allowed Linda to get within a point of winning her first game. I would like to say that I handle losing gracefully but that would be a lie. I needed five straight points to win and I was bound and determine to get them. I felt like I had almost driven off the rode while daydreaming-but now I was fully awake, and ready to do battle. I snapped off four serves that landed beautifully in the corner, causing Linda to do little else but watch. In less than a minute I was once again in control of the game. I only needed one more point to win. Linda's hope of finally winning a game was quickly evaporating. Has I stood in the serve box, bouncing the blue ball, preparing for my last serve, I let the &#034cocky&#034 side of me out, and I did something that I still regret. Without even looking at the ball, I turned my head and winked at ...