Tennis Practice


What Jane is in tennis, she is also in beauty. She stands at 1.68m with long fit legs. She has nice perky tits, a flat stomach with toned abs and a tight fit ass, a product of her diligent exercise. She has shoulder length bouncy brunette hair, almost always pulled back through her Nike tennis cap. She has a strong feminine jaw line, sparkling hazel eyes and a killer white smile as radiant as her ultra-bleached tennis dresses. No one looks sexier in a tight tennis outfit with her bronzed tan skin. Like her tennis, her beauty is faultless and untouchable.

The late morning summer sun began to beat down on the tennis courts. Jane had been working out hard for four hours. Her tan fit body was soaked with sweat and glistened in the sun. She walked to her chair on the sideline and picked up a cold bottle of water. She threw her head back and poured it down her parched throat. She didn’t see me approach from behind.

“Taking it easy today Jane?” I asked breaking the ice.

Jane gasped with surprise, sucking some water into her wind pipe. “What are you doing here Jason.” She coughed again, irritated at the intrusion. “This is my court.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Jane, I thought you were just playing around.”

“Does it look like I have been out here playing around?” she said annoyed. “I’m practicing.”

“That was a workout? I thought you were just hanging out. I wondered if you might want someone to hit with you.”

“If you want to be on my court, i’ll let you be my ball boy,” she said condescendingly. “My coach is sick and it’s a pain in the ass chasing these balls.”

“Ball boy?” I asked laughing. “Can I get you more water too?”

“Yeah, thanks,” she said without hesitating, trying to humiliate me off the court. “My ball boy does whatever I ask.”

“I could be your ball boy” I smirked.

“Yeah right,” she said. “I hardly think you’d lower yourself.”

“Not willingly,” I interrupted. Jane laughed knowing it was true. “But if we play one set, and you get lucky and beat me, I will be your ball boy. I will do anything you ask – with no argument, until you are done with me.”

Jane pondered the thought for a moment. She knew I was one of the better tennis players, but she could beat me easily. Not only would she have a ball boy for the day, but she could boast about my humiliation to the rest of the team. I relished that she was taking a moment to consider the offer.

I broke the silence. “I understand your hesitancy to play and your fear of being embarrassed by me beating you,” I teased. “i’ll just leave you alone, head back and hang out with the guys.” She knew I meant I would tell everyone she was afraid to play me.

“Not so fast,” she said. “Why waste your time and go through the humiliation of losing to me?” she retorted arrogantly. “Why don’t you just start picking up the balls now.”

“You are afraid,” I shot back with a smile, “I never thought I would see the day.”

“How can you say that?” she answered back. “What world are you living in? I will beat your pants off.” Her competitive confidence was rising like the heat on the tennis court.

“In your wet dreams,” I chided back. “But I accept your wager.”

“What wager?”

“To beat my pants off,” I answered back. “If you’re that confident that you think you can beat my pants off, then I accept the challenge. Let’s see if you can.”

“What are you talking about?” Jane asked confused.

“We play one set, winner takes all,” I explained confidently. “Winner has the other person as a personal ‘ball boy’ assistant for the rest of the day, just like you said. Anything asked will be done without question.”

“You’re on,” she agreed.

“But, to go with your new idea of beating my pants off, every game played will cost a piece of clothing. After each game in the set, the winner picks the piece of clothing for the loser to remove – anything but shoes. You win the set the moment your opponent is out of clothes. That simple.”

“You’re perverted,” she said, while inwardly feeling aroused at the suggestion. This seemed like an easy opportunity too good to pass up.

“Me? It was your idea,” I said. “You say you can beat my pants off. I don’t think you can. But if you’re all talk, i’ll just leave you be.”

“Screw you Jason. I said you were perverted, but I didn’t say I didn’t like the idea. You’re on. Here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to play one set and get this over with quickly. I am going to beat you easily in straight games, systematically removing all your clothes. Then, I am going to enjoy owning your naked ass until I say you are done.”

I smiled. Her competitive strength just became her weakness that played into my hand. “I don’t know,” I said playing with her mind and pretending to back off a bit.

“Can’t back out now ball boy,” she said almost eagerly. “You’re mine. Rally for serve.”

I rolled the tennis ball machine off to the side before we rallied for serve. I found myself mesmerized again by this gorgeous sweat-soaked beauty playing me for high stakes. She slammed the ball past me and won the rally easily. “Get used to that ball boy,” she taunted. “This is going to be even easier than I thought.”

Jane wasted no time to unleash her assault. She won the first game effortlessly on adrenaline and competitive determination. Giving no thought to pacing herself, she launched four torpedo serves, strategically hitting their targets. All four serves went unanswered. “Need some balls?” She asked as we switched sides. “Oh, and i’ll take your cap,” she said knowing I would be serving into the sun at high noon. I tossed it at her as we passed. “This is going to be fun.”

The second game was more competitive with me having the advantage of the serve. I intentionally worked to keep her back at the baseline, running her from corner to corner. It seemed impossible to get anything past her. Even though she dominated the game, I could see her already beginning to wear down from my ball placement in the corners. She took the second game. “Like I said,” she continued to tout, “straight games. I’ll take your shirt now,” she demanded from her side of the court. I slowly pulled my Adidas polo over my head, swung it around a few times before throwing it to the side. “Nice,” she complemented looking at my abs. I could feel the sweat beginning to bead up and roll down my body.

“I hope you are hungry,” she boasted. “I am going to serve another four-course meal right down your throat. Two-love.” she announced as she threw the ball up for the serve. The first serve blew past me untouched. To her surprise, the second serve was returned. “Nice return,” she volunteered. I got lucky again with the third serve and found myself up for the first time. I could tell she was unusually distracted and was working to maintain her focus. It may because the stakes were high, or she was playing someone without a shirt in a shirt-required environment, or fatigue beginning to set in. “15-30,” she said frustratingly. She refocused herself on the game. I didn’t score again.

The set score was now 3-0. We walked toward one another to switch sides, and met at the net. “Let me help you out of those shorts I promised to beat off of you,” she said as we passed. I grimaced. This was not going as I had planned, and was exactly as she described it would be. With her tennis racquet under her arm, she reached over and unclasped my tennis shorts. She slowly moved my zipper down and could feel my dick growing as firm as a tennis shaft. She tugged my shorts down to accent her victory, smiling as they fell around my ankles. “Very nice,” she again complemented. My dick continued to grow in response to her attention, pushing up beyond the constraints of my briefs. “Ooo, very nice. I have to say Jason, that’s looking bigger than I imagined.”

“I am flattered that it’s been the subject of your imagination,” I shot back as I took the tennis balls for my turn to serve. Jane blushed and became flustered at having her fantasy thoughts exposed.

My serve was warmed up for the fourth game. I also could tell Jane was beginning to press through fatigue setting in from her morning’s workout. I continued to run her at the baseline from one corner to the other, and move her back and forth from the net. Opportunities to put easy shots away were traded for fatigue-inducing placement. She never gave up and was unwilling to allow any ball to go by without an all-out attempt to return it. I controlled the fourth game and finally had a mark on the board.

Jane was stunned and suddenly felt vulnerable. She never considered the remote chance that she would lose a game or a piece of clothing. We looked at each other from across the net. I smiled, feeling deep satisfaction and anticipation in the moment. She began to lift her cap from her head.

“Uh-uh,” I corrected. “i’ll take your dress now,” mocking her with her own words.

“Now wait,” she tried to argue across the court. “I never thought I would actually have to…” her voice tapered. “I never planned to actually…” her voice softened again. She struggled for words and knew what was expected of her before the next game could begin.

“Would you like some help?” I calmly offered from the other side. I stood there in only my briefs and tennis shoes. I had no interest in showing mercy.

She answered my question without words, and began to unzip the back of her short tennis dress. She pulled it off of her shoulders, lowered the dress and stepped out of it. God she is beautiful, I thought. Her body glistened from the sweat. Her large round firm tits were like that of a goddess, fully exposed through her sweat soaked white bra. It’s only remaining purpose was to provide support. The wet sheer material did nothing to hide the beauty it held or her growing nipples pressing through the fabric. She wore a matching sports thong, also soaked from sweat. She turned to hang her dress on the fence behind her, giving an unhindered view of her thong-lined tight round fit ass. “Very nice” I called out. “Very nice.”

Jane’s loss steeled her resolve, but her exposure clearly flustered her. She felt self-conscious and vulnerable. Her body battled between her fierce competitive instincts and her self-consciousness from being exposed. Her natural desire to cover herself as she played interfered with her well-honed muscle memory and swing. She tried to focus and put her game face on as she threw the ball up to serve. The blushing of her cheeks and uncharacteristic stiff serve gave her away. She double faulted. She couldn’t remember the last time that happened. She felt herself begin to unravel. For the first time she began to fear what might happen. It was no longer only about winning, but what happens if you lose. In a new way, she experienced what was at stake. I made it a point to take in the view of her body, instead of her eyes, when she would look over the net before each serve. It made me more determined; it made her more self-conscious.

Sweat poured down her body from the heat and pressure. It took two for her to get her next serve in. I returned it to the opposite baseline corner. She got there, still struggling with her exposure, and hit the ball to the center of my court. I dinked it just over the net to the opposite corner. She sprinted to reach it in time, realizing she was offering me a closer look as she did. “Argh,” she groaned, and hit the ball into the net.

“Love-30,” I said smiling.

I enjoyed the view as she turned and walked back to the baseline for her next serve. I could hear her talking to herself, trying to regain her focus. She won the next two points, bringing it even at 30-30. I could feel her gaining momentum. I readjusted my briefs to better contain my still firm dick. She waited to serve until I was ready, which distracted her again by the novelty of the situation. I returned her serve and initiated the best rally of the set. We both rushed the net, again heightening our exposure to one another. She hit the ball up, trying to lob it over me. I jumped up and reached for it with everything in me. She got a full eye view of my physique stretched out in the air. The tip of my racquet connected, sending the ball over her toward the back of her court. We were both riveted as we watched it land just inside.

“Yeeesss!” I said instinctively, clinching my fist and drawing it down victoriously.

She answered with a loud groan of disbelief. “I can’t believe it!” She said disgusted.

“I am trying to decide which I want first.” I paused to let my words sink in. “Your bra or that pretty thong of yours.”

Jane’s mind began to spin. She couldn’t imagine playing without either, and shuttered at how dangerously close she was. The flood of thoughts and insecurities compromised her serve, sending the ball out of bounds off to the side.

“Damn it,” she said frustrated at herself. She carefully hit her second serve gently over the net, like a beginning tennis student. She had to make sure it landed in. She hadn’t served that way in years, but couldn’t stand the thought of losing her bra or thong on a double fault. Any serve like that to her in a tournament would always get it returned down their throats to prove her dominance. Now with her confidence shaken, she was serving to save her pride. Without fanfare, I met her serve as she would have and put it away at an impossible angle. She knew it was what a weak serve deserved.

We walked toward each other to trade sides. “2-3,” I said. She knew the score. She was waiting in disbelief to hear what she needed to remove. I let the anticipation do its work. She had tennis balls in her hand to pass off for my turn to serve. “I have balls,” I said answering her question from our first change of sides. She smiled sheepishly. As we met at the net, we crossed where my tennis shorts were still lying from when she dropped them to my ankles. “Why don’t we leave your bra here too,” I said. “Turn around. It’s my turn.” She obliged, allowing me to unclasp her bra from the back. The sport bra’s tension from her full breasts sprung the straps forward as I released them. She pulled the bra forward, freeing her tits and dropped the stretchy material on top of my tennis shorts. She tried to obscure her chest with one arm while carrying her racquet in her other. I smiled. It was a moment neither of us would have ever imagined.

“That’s all there is for you,” she said determined. “This next one is mine. Your ass is mine.” Her resolve was clear, but her confidence was compromised.

“God, your beautiful,” I complemented, ignoring her threat. She immediately tried to cover herself again with her arms, feeling more vulnerable than ever. “I am looking forward to owning that thong. Can I ask you a question?” Jane didn’t answer, but looked over out of curiosity. “Is it sweat that has made it so wet?” The thin veneer of her game face gave way to the growing insecurity in her eyes. “My serve,” I said adding insult to injury.

We took our places on opposite sides of the net. I threw the ball up for the serve. Jane instinctively opened up her stance for the return. Her two breathtaking melons that I had only dreamed of were now fully exposed. Like two large bright globes lit up at night, the tender white skin of her round tits reflected the sun’s rays against the backdrop of her dark bronzed tan body. I allowed the ball to drop without following through on my swing. “Wow,” I said as a complement. She blushed at her exposure and the complement.

I threw the ball up for the serve and launched my swing. The serve landed in the back inside corner of the square. Jane turned and ran for it, immediately feeling the awkward weighty movement of her unconstrained breasts working against her. She surprised herself by making the shot. We rallied several times before she won the point. She experienced it as a small moral victory. She was ready to win and make me pay. She applied the same determination and took the second point of my serve.

“Love-30,” she boasted.

“I have you right where I want you,” I answered back smiling.

“Bullshit,” she answered back with her competitive juices flowing. Her drive to win now overshadowed her self-consciousness about her exposure on the court. Jane tried to focus on the game, but became preoccupied by who might be watching from off the court. She took one point and answered with the next two.

“Deuce,” I announced. I glanced up in the stands as if seeing something. Insecurity caused her to immediately follow my glance. I served my second ace.

“Damn it,” she said chiding herself for her breach of focus.

“Match point,” I called out, taking in the moment. I felt myself getting hard in anticipation of the trophy. Jane was clearly nervous and sweating. I launched my serve. It was met by my ready opponent and was fired back. We engaged in one of the best rallies of the afternoon. I continued my strategy of running her from corner to corner at the baseline, and drawing her to the net. She was persistent, determined and beautiful. We both approached the net, and began to rally back and forth. She finally saw her opportunity and pounded one at an impossible angle. I dove for the shot, stretched across the court in mid-air to reach the ball. I felt my racquet connect just before I began my descent toward the hard surface of the court. I turned my head to look and watched the ball hit the top of the net and drop on the other side. Jane stood there stunned as I lay sprawled on the ground with only my briefs on.

“Nooo!” she said shocked that I made the shot.

“Yeeesss!” I said feeling the pain and victory of the sacrifice dive.

I jumped up for the moment. Jane was still standing right on the other side of the net, astounded at what just happened. Her bare creamy tits glowed in the afternoon sun. She was breathing hard from the exertion and sweat poured down her mostly naked body. “i’ll take that thong,” I said smiling, hardly believing what I was asking.

She was speechless. We both stood there, still catching our breath, staring at each other across the net.

“I believe that belongs to me now” I said as a way of asking again. She smiled back with the look of a gracious athlete after a hard fought loss.

“Why don’t I walk over there and let you peel it off my ass yourself.”

I was stunned at her boldness.

She sauntered around the net slowly, her eyes locked on mine as she did. She knew she was breathtakingly sexy and was enjoying it. She let her tits bounce naturally and proudly as she moved. She walked up next to me and planted a kiss on my cheek. “I am so hot right now,” she whispered with every meaning of the word. “Nothing gets me going like competitive tennis and the feel of a shaft in my hand.”

She turned to face the net. She reached out in front of her and grabbed the top of the net with both hands. She spread her legs behind her and bent over at her waist. Looking over her shoulder at me, she said, “I think this belongs to you.” She moved her ass playfully right and left. “Do it Jason. Take it off,” she demanded.

“You seem eager,” I said

“Are you complaining?” she asked with a smile.

“Hell no.” I answered. “I didn’t expect this.”

“Sometimes its lonely at the top,” she revealed. “Why do you think I let you win?” she asked confessing her control of the entire match.

“No way,” I shot back.

“I’m ready to submit to the consequences of my loss.”

“Of my win.”

“Of your win,” she said. “Now, I believe these belong to you,” she said again.

I stepped up behind her and massaged both sweat-coated cheeks of her ass. She began to moan and move her ass responsively. I reached up with both hands to gently take hold of the waist band of her thong and began to pull it down over her ass. “Yes. God yes,” she said continuing to move her ass in response. I lowered the thong slowly down her long beautiful fit legs. Her tight round ass, and the length of her tan legs were specimens of perfection. She stepped out of the wet thong when it finally laid limp on top of her tennis shoes.

“Now, if I understood the rules right, I belong to you until you are done here,” she committed with a smile. She turned around to face me, boldly taking hold of the top band of my briefs in her right hand. “I think you are done with this,” she asked eagerly. “I have been trying to take this off of you the last three games.” She lowered the strap, rescuing my dick from its constraint. It stood thicker, harder and taller than anytime I could remember. She took the base firmly in her hand with a strong tennis grip. She hungrily took it into her mouth, causing it to disappear.

The grip of her hand was matched by the skill of her mouth as it masterfully descended my shaft. I could feel the juices rising from deep within me. I wanted to savour the moment. I pulled my dick from her mouth and stood her up, taking her beautiful orbs into my hands. I guided her to step back to the net. Her arms stretched out across the top of the net for support and she leaned against it with her legs spread. I knelt down in front of her, admiring her wet bushy mound. I looked up at her to see her smile as I began to take her pussy into my mouth. My tongue began its work on her firm waiting clit. Within a minute, Jane’s body was covered with goose bumps as her ass bounced of the net in response.

“You’re going to take me!” she screamed. Her hands squeezed the top of the net to hold on as she rocked harder against the net. I redoubled my effort. “Harder,” she begged. I reached around her ass with both hands, gripping her cheeks and pulled her close. Her legs began to buckle. Her ass bucked violently against the net as if it had been months since her last release. Just as she was ready to explode I stopped my tongue’s action, keeping my mouth next to her clit. She pushed her mound against my mouth, “Don’t stop damn it, don’t stop. Take me Jason. Take me now!” I wanted to hear her beg for release. I gladly obliged, moving my hands around to spread her clit lips and unleash a full assault of love. “Yeeeesssss!” she screamed. “Yeeeeeeessss!” Cum poured from her like a faucet. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop! Take it all,” she begged. “Yes!” I reached up and began to massage her nipples between my fingers, while working relentlessly on her clit. Her body rocked in ecstasy, overcome with wave after wave of dizzying release. “God that feels good,” she said. Her body continued to convulse as I stood.

She put her arms around my neck and jumped up, wrapping her legs around my waist. “Fuck me, Jason. I have to feel you in me.” She lowered her ass as I reached down to insert my throbbing dick into her soaked mound. “You feel so good,” she screamed as my dick disappeared deep into her. “Better than a tennis shaft,” she said unintentionally confessing a private practice of stimulation. “Harder,” she begged as her ass began to rock up and down. “Faster,” she pleaded.

I carried her over to the bench on the side of the court. She skillfully pumped my shaft as I walked, kissing me as we moved. I leaned over the bench, gently laying her on her back as she continued to ride me. Her legs lay open and her arms fell to her side over the metal bench, opening her body to me with eager willingness. She lifted one of her agile flexible legs and crossed it over in front of me, allowing her to turn over without any need for me to slow my pumping action. She raised her ass in the air and pulled herself up on her knees. Her arms hugged the bench, pressing her large round tits into the airy metal form and her ass high in the air. The lines of the bench indented its design across the canvass of her breasts. I have never seen a more perfectly shaped ass than what was staring up at me. It taunted me for attention. I was tempted to accept its virgin plea, going where no one had ever gone with Jane. I decided to save that option for later, like dessert after a fine meal.

I began to feel my orgasm rise again from every extremity. Sweat poured from me as my body slammed over and over against her ass. My dick drilled deeper, harder and faster at her demand. I turned her over again onto her back. I withdrew and pulled her up to sit in front of me. She took my whole member in her mouth, ravenously working every muscle. She raised her back and moved my throbbing dick down between her slippery tits. I continued to pump, sliding my dick up and down her cleavage. She pressed her well-endowed tits together hard, attempting to contain my active member. She opened her mouth, allowing her to take in the head of my dick every time it ascended out of her breasts. “Oh yes! Yes!” I screamed as what felt like a quart of juice shot from me, out of her tits and on to her face. She licked her mouth and cheeks as quickly as she could, readying herself for the next load after load that drenched her. Her tan face and chest were covered with my sauce. She worked to swallow the volumes of cum that poured into the funnel of her throat.

“You are so good,” I complemented.

“I’m not done,” she said insatiably. “Let’s go to my place for a new match.”

“What do we play for this time?” I asked smiling.

“How about my hat?”

All of the sudden it dawned on me that she had thrown the match. She gave herself to me before I had officially taken everything off of her. She wanted to be mine more than she wanted to win. Maybe, for her, it was the same thing.

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