I met her first on the tennis court. I was in Germany, in the north, on business. I had essentially finished all my meetings for the week, it was Friday, and I was returning to the States on Sunday. Often on trips, when I can, I try to hook up some tennis at local clubs in the cities I'm visiting; you can often find a doubles match looking for a partner. I had been to this club before and had played some good sets.
At any rate, I'm on the court, my partner is a young German woman, kind of stocky, pretty good player who covers nicely for my deficits. We're ahead of our opponents 5-3. Playing against us is a couple, he, around 50, has a beer gut but is very nimble, she, around 40, beautiful blond frauline, slim, athletically figured and a strong but inconsistent player; she takes a lot of risks, but doesn't score well on many of them. No one talks much since I don't speak German very well and besides, it seems as if no one really knows each other; we're all thrown together by convenience just to get a game going. We win the set and partners change. I greet the blond woman in German (I know only enough to get by in stores, restaurants, and hotels, really not much at all) and she shyly responds to me in kind. Her face up close is quite pretty, stunning, actually. When I serve, I glance at her wonderful legs and tight ass and for most of the set. I concentrate on thinking what she might look like naked.
"Man I'm playing like shit," I felt. "The guy on the other side looks cute, but he probably doesn't speak English. Besides, this asshole with me is just giving them the game. Oh well, so much for random matching.
I don't know what I was thinking, I mean I wasn't looking for an affair or anything, but being away from one's element and feeling kind of temporarily disengaged from the normal responsibilities does allow one to fantasize every now and then. I think he caught my eye, but then it was probably about some dumb stroke I fucked up on and gave away some points. Then we lost and changed partners. He said something like hello in perfect German and I said basically all I knew how to say, "hello," and smiled. I was right, he doesn't speak English.
I was still really tired and jet-lagged from the flight two days ago and the TV crews were giving me a really endless schedule and list of requirements. This tennis was my own personal claim to space and relaxation, a little exercise can't hurt. Besides, I had planned for a calm visit to the spa and had scheduled a massage to break down my physical anxiety about the whole trip, the filming and the demands. I had the evening completely to myself and didn't have to be anywhere until noon tomorrow.
While away on business, I always get horny and toward the end of my trips I think about fucking anything with tits; not that bad, but waitresses, concierges, secretaries, museum patrons, you name it, I imagine myself deep inside them. Now here was a gorgeous opportunity playing on my team, showing me her figure, running, jumping all over the place. When we passed mid court, I would try and gather her scent. Wafting by, it was a heady mixture of a pure floral soap and tennis sweat. I concentrated not to get hard there; my shorts would be too revealing. Needless to say, due to my obsessive sexual focus, we lost the set sorely (6-2) and our match was over. I thanked her, meekly threw up my arms in defeat and walked up to the net, not knowing what to do next. She was probably meeting her husband afterward. I bid farewell to the opponents, who responded warmly in German, some long phrase I have no idea what it was, and I laughed heartily, showing I understood them, and left the courts.
Now I played much better with him on my team. I was getting all these great shots, but he was fucking up royally, totally hitting long or more often than not into the net. The opponents kept winking at each other as they collected points which should have been ours. In the end they won and I wasn't really pissed because I felt my game was improving, but I did want to chat more with my teammate. Unfortunately, he immediately said his farewells, perhaps he was embarrassed for his poor hitting, and disappeared. Well I had a nice spa visit ahead and was planning on dining at my favorite restaurant in peace that night.
This club was great; the courts and adjoining athletic facilities were connected to a very fancy mineral bath and spa. The locker room serviced both enterprises. In the spa, there were all sorts of pools: hot, cold, mineral, plain; there were wet and dry saunas, massage rooms, etc. Like most baths in Europe, everyone paraded around naked; men and women, young and old, fat and thin. Big stretchy hanging bellies alongside a body with perfect breasts; a tired old cranky uncircumcised dong next to a wonderfully shaven pussy. One tries hard to enjoy the sensual aspects of the water treatments without thinking too much about sex; it would be most inappropriate to wave a hard on in front of all these patrons who seek relaxation and comfort.
I entered the hallway leading toward the locker room and the blonde is there. We see each other and smile warmly at the entrance doors to the locker rooms. I say, thank you again, I hope to play again sometime (or something close) and I go in the men's room as she goes into the women's room. Obviously, I'm thinking about her as I undress, hoping desperately that she'll continue as I intend to, to the baths, and not just shower and leave. I undress, grab a towel and go into the baths. I sit and soak in a large hot bubbling pool for awhile and think about my trip, the tennis game, and the blonde. No she's not there, or anywhere for that matter. I exit the pool and enter a very warm dry tile room with big wooden lounge chairs. It's very quiet and extremely calming. My muscles ache a bit, but are feeling good after the workout.
As I leave the sports center and enter the spa changing area, I see him and we catch each other's eyes. He looks at me very warmly and says something I cannot understand, again in German. I'm a little shy seeing him again, though I really wanted to, and smile back, say hello and go into the woman's room. I figure we'll meet somewhere in the pools. It doesn't even occur to me that we'll be stark naked.
I've scheduled a massage, which is coming up in about 30 minutes. There's a pair of old German ladies across from me, both with enormous tits drooping down their tummies. I pretend to close my eyes and peek at one of their crotches more out of habit than out of lust. It's like a gray bush; big blue veins sticking out of the thigh meat. Ugh! That'll settle any sexual notion I may have had. On one side of me is a vacant chair, on the other is a young man, about 20, reading a German newspaper. Nobody really talks or communicates with anyone else; it's very peaceful. I close my eyes and sink into a warm catatonic state.
I'm startled out of my doze my the creaks of the chair next to me as a new person sinks into it. Still pretending to be asleep, I sneak a look at the visitor; it's blondie. Holy shit! She's lying next to me, hasn't recognized me; actually hasn't looked, and is start naked, laying on a towel she placed on the chair. She adjusts herself and closes her eyes. Her body is perfect, it seems. A pure white, I can see some freckles on her neck, her smallish but still firm breasts, dark and luscious nipples. Her stomach is tight and her mons is clean shaven from this angle. For a woman her age (my age) she looks great, actually edible. Even better, there's no one with her. Her straight, chic shoulder length hair falls back and she breathes calmly. I don't know what to do; bothering her would be such an intrusion, but then I might lose this opportunity. I glance at the clock and I've got 10 minutes to get to the massage appointment. Blonde pussy or not, I want that treatment! I slowly open my eyes, move to gather my towel, and stand up, ready to leave. I turn around to straighten the chair and pick up my water bottle and she's up, staring at me.
In German, she says very affectionately, "Hello again," and then something I didn't quite understand until the end when I think she said "... this health spa."
I laughed and said hello back to her. Not knowing what else to say (or not being able to with the language) I said in English, "Do you speak a little English, I really don't speak German."
She let out a burst and laughed. The other people in the room were now looking at us, annoyed that we broke the peace. The German ladies whispered disapprovingly.
"English? I'm American. I can't speak German very well either, only what I remember from college." I thought your accent sounded so authentic, I'm sorry, I didn't know."
I responded, "If I had known, we could've communicated and won that last set."
She responded, "I'm usually shy when I'm in another country and especially when I'm playing doubles with a stranger. How funny."
I held out my hand, trying not to stare at this amazing naked work of art. "My friends call me Red. I'm finishing a week of business here and return home to New York on Sunday."
"Carla, I'm from Chicago and I'm about to be late for a massage downstairs."
I looked at the clock and she was right. "Me too!," I said and we quickly wrapped ourselves in the white fluffy towels and went down to the treatment areas together. Turns out she had been here four times over the last three months and someone had told her about the baths; she discovered the tennis by herself. We had adjoining rooms and went our separate ways.
As this big lunk of a heavyset chambermaid pounded the aches from my arms and back, I thought of the coincidence of meeting him upstairs, naked, no less. He had a beautiful body and I could almost smell his lust for me. I fantasized while being stroked and rubbed how it might feel to be kissed by someone else, perhaps him. It wasn't that I didn't love my husband or wasn't happy in my marriage, I just felt like justifying a "vacation," something no one would ever need know about. I mean people do it every day, why couldn't I have those feelings?
As the therapist dug deeper into my shoulders, I gently rubbed my pussy against the towel, ever so lightly, catching the tip of my clit and arousing a sensual feeling. I kind of dozed off while she worked on me, thinking of how he would enter me, if he was good. I wondered if I could handle anything at all, or would I chicken out? Maybe he was great, maybe evil? I wondered if he could handle my nasty side, if I chose to let it out.
A very relaxed hour later, we lay side by side in a cool quiet room on our towels, naked, slightly oily from the massages, on comfortable leather lounge chairs. "I feel great," she says dreamily, eyes closed. There are hardly any others in this room, only an older couple in the far corner, deeply concentrating on newspapers. I look over at her. Her towel is draped loosely over her torso, both lovely breasts exposed, her crotch covered.
