Based on things we really did, but about half fiction. More fun that way.
Some years ago, my husband and I went to a nice resort for a three-day tennis camp to improve his forehand and my backhand. The lessons were very good, and we learned a lot practicing and playing many hours a day. On the last day, we had the afternoon free. We had met an interesting couple, Sean and Margot, so we arranged to play doubles with them.
For tennis, I typically wore a traditional, short, white tennis dress. My hubby Patrick suggested that I wear sheer panties under the dress instead of the usual fairly opaque tennis pants. He said if anyone asked about it, I could just say that I forgot to pack the pants. Yeah, right. The skirts on these little dresses fly up every time you move, run, or swing. Just watch any women's tennis match on TV. But he insisted, so okay, okay. I had some white cotton bikinis, not sheer exactly but well-worn and slightly transparent. Naughty but nice. However, I had also brought a couple very sheer nylon bikinis, also white so they won't be so obviously wrong, and naturally, he chose those. So, I figured that every time I serve, the shadow of my bush will be vaguely visible. Maybe it will distract the competition if they look. I hope it doesn't distract my partner behind me too much, though.
We decided to play mixed doubles, each with the other's spouse. This way we can all play with fury against our loved ones, and we won't get angry when they screw up. Also, whenever I'm playing net, the other husband will be looking right up the back of my skirt when I bend over. Ooh. The wet in my panties might not be just sweat. Whenever I was up at net with my partner back waiting to serve or receive, I made sure to bend over extra far so that the skirt was as high as possible. Was he staring at my goodies? Not all the time, I think, because we played fairly well. Apparently he was sometimes trying to return that serve and not always staring at my ass.
After the match - close, but we lost in two sets - we went back to our room for an early drink on the balcony. There were of course a few pats on the butt for whichever girl was bringing the drinks. More lingering caresses than pats, after a few drinks.
I had something in my eye, so I went to the bathroom to clean my contact lens. While I was there, Margot knocked. Was it okay for her to come in to use the facilities, it's kind of urgent. Sure, come on in. She just pulled down her pants and sat down while I was at the sink. No big deal, really, since we saw each other in the locker room after the match.
When she was done, she came over to wash her hands. She stood behind me and reached around both sides to the sink. As she pressed against me, I thought it was a very odd way to do it. I would have moved aside. I said that and she answered, "Oh, no, this is much more fun." She didn't move away to dry her hands, either, but kept me pinned there. Then she put one arm around my waist and her other on my hip. And then it got really strange. She ran her hand down the outside of my skirt to my leg and then back up under the skirt. Huh? What is this? It happened so quickly I didn't have time to react. I didn't want to react, actually. I felt her breasts pressing into my back. So this is what guys feel. wow, that's very sexy.
I was surprised at her touch, but I was just frozen. I looked down at her hand and just gaped. She moved her hand to my butt to knead it, then over to the side of my thigh below the skirt. Oh, God. Not just a friendly feelie. I leaned on the counter with both hands, I couldn't move, I didn't want to resist. Where was this going?
She was close behind me, her leg touching mine. It felt hot, thigh to thigh. Her other hand went around the front of my waist and pulled me close to her. Her hand on my thigh reached up under my skirt to my bare hip, my bare ass, around to my bare belly. I closed my eyes to savor her light, sensual touch, the heat of her body against mine. She reached in front of me to cup my left breast. I gasped a little, I wasn't expecting it to feel so hot and tingly. Her fingers were electric on my nipple. I felt my pussy wet. I hadn't done anything like this since college, and not much even then. This was real grown-up sex and it was thrilling.
She turned me around to face her, leaned toward me, her cheek touched mine. I held her waist with both hands, feeling the swell of her hips. She whispered to me that if I took off her pants, then we'd be even. (Mine were airing out on the towel rack after our sweaty games.) She stepped back from me a few inches so I could reach up to the elastic waistband of her panties under the skirt. I hooked my thumbs in it and pulled them down slowly to her knees. I felt her smooth thighs under my hands as I pulled down the pants. She let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.
Both her hands were under my skirt on my hips, mine were still on her thighs. She moved a hand across my belly to feel my bush, what's left of it. Oh, god, she's so gentle, so subtle, but so hot. Her finger slid along my lips. I opened my legs for her. She stretched her finger between my lips onto my clit. I swooned at the first touch, it's so wonderful, I almost came. She pushed a finger up into me, oh, god! In and out a few times, slowly, then withdrew. She licked her finger. "Mmmm. We'd better go. But maybe we won't tell the boys about this until later," she said.
On the way out, I grabbed my panties from the rack. I just was not comfortable in front of a strange man, her husband, in a skirt this brief. He had already been staring up my skirt for an hour on the court.
We went back out to the boys, who were already ensconced on the balcony, glasses in hand, but the glasses were empty. She and I went in to mix more margaritas. She said to me simply, "Mixed doubles." I understood. Swap partners as we did for tennis? Oh, god yes, what a good idea, I think after already too many deadly margaritas. I went back out to deliver Sean's drink instead of Pat's, and she went the other way. I stayed standing next to his chair drinking mine, one hand on his shoulder. he reached out to put his arm around my legs. His hand was warm. My leg was hot. His hand massaged down to my calf. Then to the other calf. Then up to my knee. But just friendly, no farther.
Margot went off to her massage. She'd be gone for at least an hour and a half. I stood between the guys' chairs. Pat felt my leg, as men will who get too familiar in public, fairly high up, Sean watched intently. Pat got up my thigh, way up, patted my ass under the skirt and asked for another drink.
I came back with drinks for all of us, stood in the same place. Pat's hand came back, started just below the knee and worked his way up. I leaned over to whisper to him, "Be careful what you reach for. You know he'll want to do the same thing and he'll think it's okay." Bent over like this toward Pat, as I am, I'm sure that Sean can see my ass and my panties. Again.
He whispers back, "That's okay with me. How about you?"
