Tennis Match

Our tennis club decided to have a quick knock-out competition one long weekend. The Friday (public holiday) was for the men, the Saturday for the women, and the Sunday for doubles. It wasn't mandatory to put your name down to enter but if you were smart you did so.

I put my name down for the singles match but, being a distinctly average player, there wasn't a rush of people asking me to partner them in the doubles. Being confident that those who knew of my prowess on the court would steer clear of me as a partner I was quite confident that I could register for a doubles match if they needed someone to make up a match, knowing I was safe.

On Saturday, my first match was one of the early ones, leaving me free to exit the tournament and enjoy the other matches. I rolled up on Sunday, ready to enjoy a relaxing day of watching, and the club secretary jumped me as soon as I walked in.

"Stella, just the person I was waiting for. Aaron has arrived and wants to play in the mixed doubles but he hasn't got a partner. I checked and you're down as an emergency if anyone needs a partner. I'll tell him you've arrived and that you've agreed to partner him."

She was gone before I could say yes, no, or who the hell is Aaron? I didn't know any Aaron. We didn't have any members called Aaron.

The secretary came back towing this giant thug behind her. He was well over six foot, and that was across the shoulders. He was a frigging walking mountain and I was willing to swear that I'd never seen him around the club before.

"Aaron, this is Stella, your partner. Better get a move on. Your match will be on soon."

He smiled and rumbled, "Hullo, Stella. Glad you were free to partner me."

"Um, yes, right. Ah, I'm not a top player, you know. Just who are you?"

"I'm Aaron. I've just joined the club. You don't need to be a brilliant player. We're just here for the fun of it, after all."

Our match was called and we went out. I did my best, and was quite shocked to find that we actually won the match, which meant I was going to have to play in the second round, damn it.

We won our second round as well and the third round was the semi-final. (We only had sixteen people in the mixed doubles so we were down to the final rounds pretty quickly.) I could not believe it when we won the semi-final and were going to be in the final. I'm a fun player, not a competitor. I've never even reached a semi before this, let alone a final.

As you can imagine I was a little nervous approaching the final. That was until I checked to see who we were playing. Then I went from a little nervous to frankly terrified. Brad and Simone were playing against us. I hadn't dreamed that they would be in the mixed doubles. They had already won their respective singles and were both ferociously competitive on the court. Even though, at only eighteen, Simone was younger than me, I'd never beaten her on the court in my life, and I didn't expect to start now.

The match started and it was a massacre. I could barely put bat to ball if you get what I mean. The first serve I faced from Simone, my grip on the racquet was so bad that the ball knocked it out of my hand on the way past. Both Brad and Simone targeted me as the weak link on our side and we lost the first set six games straight.

Aaron called for a short break between sets. He wanted a word with his partner about tactics, he said. Simone didn't even try to hide the smirk on her face as she told us to take ten. Aaron hoicked me off the court and into one of the small player rooms where we could have some privacy.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked. "You can play better than that. You seem to have just folded up and conceded the match before the first serve."

I tried to explain. I pointed out that Brad and Simone were both killers and that there was no way in heaven or hell that we were going to be able to beat them. I'd just as soon die quickly and get it over with.

"So who cares if they're better than us? That's no reason to lie down and let them walk all over you. You won't get any better by just surrendering. Show some fight. Make them at least work for their victory."

I dithered and it was rather plain to Aaron that I would continue to dither all over the court unless he found some way to give me a shot in the arm. You would not believe the way he found to motivate me.

"All you need," he said, "is a reason not to give up lightly. I'll provide you with some motivation. It won't matter if we win or lose as long as you damn well try."

I perked up a little, wondering how he was going to motivate me.

"You're scared of Brad and Simone," he told me. "That's why you're not trying your hardest. All we have to do is change that to a fear of not doing your best and you'll play like a lion possessed."

I'm like, "What?" and the next thing I know I'm flying through the air and landing across his knee.

"You will start playing properly or answer to me afterwards," Aaron said coldly and clearly, backing up his order with some pretty hard spanks.

I squealed and tried to wriggle, frantically telling him he couldn't treat me like this.

"You're right," he said. "What am I thinking of. A spanking should be on your bare bottom, shouldn't it?"

With that he yanked my panties down and gave a few more spanks on my now bare bottom. I'm not sure what was redder, my bottom or my face.

"Now we are going out there and we are going to continue the match with you playing with everything you've got. If you pull the slacker routine again I will not only put you back across my knee but I will also screw you rotten. Shall we go?"

He patted my bare bottom and stood me back on my feet. Scarlet faced I quickly hauled my panties back up, glowering at him but two nervous to say anything. I followed him back out onto the court, wondering if he really would try to spank me and screw me rotten if I didn't shape up. I'd have said no, but I'd also have said no if asked if I thought the brute would spank me for no reason. No way was I taking any chances.

My, ah, new competitiveness caught Brad and Simone off guard. They'd relaxed and were just going through the motions and they lost two games before they woke up. After that we all held our serves and we finished off the set six-four, leaving us even with one set each.

The third set Brad and Simone were in top gear. That second set was the only set they had dropped in the entire tournament and they were not happy. I played harder than I'd ever played before, and Aaron was terrific. Pity he missed out on the singles. I'd love to see him go head to head with Brad. They were really evenly matched. The difference in the match proved to be Simone's superiority to me. We lost the third set and the match but it wasn't by much. I was feeling quite pleased with myself. Runner-up in the doubles and we'd forced then to go three sets.

I was also gratified that Aaron seemed pleased with my effort. He didn't seem worried about losing, unlike some people I could mention who go off their heads when they lose. Not mentioning any names but I'd just been playing against one of those types. Simone had been glaring daggers at me after the game, even though she won. She didn't like not having the walkover she'd been expecting.

Please note that although I was pleased that Aaron approved of my efforts, that did not mean that I had forgiven him for his brutal assault upon my person or his even more brutal threats. I would get even with him for that. If I knew which was his car I'd go out there and let down all his tyres.

The men's doubles final finished shortly after our match and then the trophies were handed out. A genuine trophy for me as runner-up. The first trophy I'd ever won for sport. I'd take it with me the next time I visited my parents, because they wouldn't believe it otherwise.

I was heading back to the change rooms for a quick shower before going home when an arm reached out from the small players room where I'd had my earlier chat with Aaron and pulled me inside, flicking the door closed behind me.

"You did well," said Aaron, before I had a chance to say anything and I promptly shut my mouth. Far be it from me to interrupt when someone was telling me I'd done good.

"I thought that it would be only polite for me to check and make sure I didn't leave any bruises earlier," he continued and I was like, "Just what do mean by that?"

I didn't get a chance to ask because he promptly showed me. He settled onto a chair and pulled me across his knee. He was really going to have to stop doing that. With me across his knee he went and pulled my panties down again. He was REALLY going to have to stop doing that.

"No. No bruises that I can see," he murmured, his hand rubbing my bottom lightly.

"Um, that's good. You can let me up now," I said quickly.

"What's your hurry? There's no need to rush. A little rubbing will get rid of any smarting that still lingering."

A little rubbing was doing a little more than that, especially when you consider that my bottom was bare and his hands were very large and passing just a bit too close to certain private areas. Come to think of it, my bottom was one of those private areas.

"That's enough," I said firmly, trying to push against him.

I was agreeably surprised (and maybe just a tiny bit disappointed) when he let me go, helping me to my feet facing him. He was looking at me and smiling and I couldn't help but blush slightly, smiling back. I was blushing a damn sight more when I suddenly twigged to the fact that while his hands were just resting on my hips they were resting on my actual hips and not my clothes. My skirt was bunched up above his hands and everything I had was on display.

I put my hands on his shoulders and tried to push back away from him. His hands slid around and closed over my bottom and pulled me closer. So close, in fact that I was straddling his legs, almost sitting on his lap. Apparently that was want he wanted.

"Sit," he said softly. "You can take your time."

I almost did sit but decided I'd probably better not. I wriggled slightly, trying to pull back, and a little voice was suddenly nagging at me. I tried to pinpoint what it wanted and the next time I started to move about it clicked.

There was something on his lap and if I sat down I'd be up against it, and I didn't think it was his trophy. I was blushing fiercely again.

"What do you think you're doing," I said in a frantic half-whisper.

In reply he tightened his grip on me, drawing me even closer to him. If I sat down now I wouldn't be pressed against him. Oh no, I'd be nailed to him. My god, just sitting there with me standing I could feel it just brushing against me.

"I'm just waiting for you to settle down onto my lap," he said, sounding quite calm about it.

"Hah! If I sat down I'd be skewered and you know it."

"True. It's what I'm waiting for."

He had to be kidding. Did he really think I'd just sit on his cock and skewer myself at his command? I'd only just met him this morning. Talk about arrogant men.

I stood there, wondering how I could get myself out of this and, much to my annoyance, wondering what it would feel like to actually sit down on him, settling onto him with his cock rising up into me.

I was going, "Um, ah, I, um," not knowing what to say and it seemed to me that his cock was starting to take liberties. It was pressing up against me, pushing slightly harder, rubbing quite firmly against my lips.

"Stop pushing that thing at me," I muttered.

"I'm not," came the laconic reply.

Damn it, he wasn't, either. I found that my knees were slightly bent, lowering me a little until I was brushing my lips against his cock. There was too much of it. It reached too high. My god, if I sank down onto that I'd be scared to close my mouth in case I bit it.

My knees felt horribly week. It was the fault of all that tennis. That's what was doing it. My legs couldn't support me properly. That's why I was sinking lower. I wasn't deliberately impaling myself on his erection. No way. I just couldn't seem to stand properly.

First it was pushing against my lips. Then it was sliding between them and I was slowly sinking down onto him. I couldn't believe this was happening. The only plus as far as I could tell was that it was all happening so slowly that my body was finding it easy to adjust. I was wet and his cock was steadily moving down my heated passage, enjoying my tight wetness, bringing its own heat to the party.

I was whimpering slightly. At least, I think it was a whimper. It wasn't a groan of anticipation like someone later described it. What would he know? Oh god, I couldn't take much more of this.

It turned out I could. It turned out I was quite capable of taking everything he had, settling comfortably onto his lap, his erection rising like a mast straight up and into me, filling me nicely.

I sat there, feeling his engorged shaft filling me, my mind finding it hard to believe that I was really doing this. I mean, I just didn't do this sort of thing. Not that I was cheating on anyone, being currently unattached, but this was so not like me. Of god, a nasty thought. Did he have a significant other?

"Ah, um, you're not married are you?" I blurted out.

"Well, that's a fine question to ask me," he said with a laugh. "You pounce on me and throw your luscious body against me and then you ask if I'm married. No, I'm not married and I don't have a significant other."

Well, that was a relief. But what was I supposed to do now?

I didn't ask that last question out loud but he must have seen the slight confusion on my face, because he answered it anyway.

"Now you can start bouncing," he said. "Do with me as you will."

"I can't," I muttered. "Murder is against the law."

I did, however, start moving. I won't say I was bouncing on him, but a little bit of leg work and I was pushing myself up and down on his cock, feeling its delightful friction exciting me and arousing all my baser instincts.

For a while it was all me, lifting myself up and dropping back down. I'm not sure when it changed but I slowly became aware that he was moving as well, starting to push up when I came sliding down his pole. With both of us moving we were coming together faster, the friction was hotter, the excitement getting higher, my arousal burning deeper.

I was aware that he was pulling my top away from my skirt and reaching up the front of it, pushing my bra out of his way. His hands closed over my breasts, working them, rubbing them in time to the bouncing I was doing on his lap. (So OK. Maybe I was actually bouncing.) The breast action was pleasant, and I was enjoying it, but it was a distant second to the pleasures taking place below my waist.

I was gasping but at the same time I was trying to be quiet. I was aware that there were other people around and it would be so embarrassing if someone came in to check on what was going on. Even knocking on the door would be a downer.

Not that I was exercising much control by that stage. When passion is running away with you, you tend to forget everything but the passion. I was moving faster, almost frantic in my need, feeling him surging up into me with every movement of my body.

I couldn't keep going. I couldn't contain my feelings. Everything was building up to fast and I was over-stimulated. A harder and faster thrust by Aaron and I lost it, hands clapped over my mouth to stop myself from screaming as a climax ripped into me.

I say there, shuddering, feeling Aaron jerking under me, having his own climax. Then I was just leaning against him, head resting on his chest.

"That was interesting," Aaron finally said in his deep rumbling voice. "Why don't you run along to the change room and have a shower and I'll meet you outside. We have a trophy for our superb performance on the court and I think I should take you out to dinner to celebrate."

With that he was standing me on my feet and rising to his own. I hastily pulled on my panties which seemed to be tangled around one ankle, and then followed him out of the room, going our separate ways when we reached the change rooms.

I had no objection to being bought dinner as a celebration, although I must admit, it would have to be a whopper of a meal to beat the celebration we'd just had. I wondered if he had anything special in mind for the dessert course.