No sexual involvement with a person under 18 years old is mentioned.
...
I got my first child-size tennis racket at the age of 6. I came from a not-so-well-to-do family, but the precious son was their priority. Near our apartment was a tennis court, and on multiple occasions, after school, I used to go there, sit down and watch adults playing the game. I was fascinated by the athleticism of some of the players and later, in my room, attempted to imitate their movements.
As I mentioned, when I turned 6, my birthday gift was a racket and 3 tennis balls. I was the happiest boy in the world. Initially I used it in my room, but after breaking a light bulb and my room window, my mother put the kibosh on home tennis. My father bought a used adult racket and played with me after hours whenever the court was empty.
As expected, in the beginning I sucked. Not that my father was a great player, but compared to me, he was Novak Djokovic. Despite my shortcomings, I continued playing. I've read about the game and watched videos of top players, and slowly my game improved. Growing up and becoming stronger had something to do with it too.
By age 9, I beat my father for the first time. I was elated. Later that day, I found out he was ill while playing with me, but it was obvious I was on the right track. When I turned 11, my father registered me for USTA Florida tennis for juniors on the condition that my school scores would not suffer. By the age of 13, I became one of the best players and participated in state tournaments.
My growth spurt started around 14. I was in my second year in high school, and already the best tennis player in school. Guys who initially mocked me for preferring tennis over football or baseball, began looking for my company and asked to get tickets to tennis events. The taller and more muscular I became, the girls took notice as well, and made eyes at me.
During high school, I went out with a couple of girls, but never really had intimacy with them. In retrospect, it's difficult to explain except to say that I used girls around me as decoration and for bragging rights more than I craved true relationships. I concentrated on my studies and tennis.
I finished high school at 18.5 year old, 6'3", 182 pounds. My parents wished for me to continue into college and have a decent profession, but my heart was into tennis. I was already one of the top players in Florida and wanted to join the professional tour.
The beginning was very promising: In my second year, I won several games against the top hundred, and was ranked as high as 73 in the world. I even got a few offers from advertisers to represent them in commercials. I guess it wasn't just because of my tennis skills, but my looks as well. As a son of a Latino descent, my skin was dark brown. I was tall, kept my hair long, and according to friends, my face was 'extremely handsome'. I didn't need to hear it from them; in all the recent games I played, a large crowd of screaming fans, mostly young women, appeared and cheered for me.
I started going out with a promising young tennis player, and had my first sexual intercourse with her. She was pretty, good player, and liked sex. At my age, I didn't want more from a girl. However, about a year into our relationship, our tournament schedules diverged, and we met less frequently than before. While the sex was better than ever, her habit of staying too long on social media and talking on her phone became too annoying, and I dumped her.
After her, I had multiple casual sex partners, but not a real girlfriend for a few years.
...
At 25 years old, I reached my peak world ranking at 48. Nobody was prouder than my parents. The future was secure and offers for commercials were numerous. It all changed in a split second of absent minded.
I played on the tour in Miami against a much inferior opponent. I led 6:2 in the first set and 5:3 in the second. I needed a single game to win the match. Then my rival hit a curveball that hit just to my right. It was too easy to hit back using my good forehand, so I elected instead to energize the crowd by spreading my legs, letting the ball pass in between, and hitting it from behind. In theory it sounded great. But my leg slipped, and I broke my kneecap on the hard surface. To cut the story short, after surgery, rehabilitation, and several attempts to return to shape, I gave up. It was clear I lost it. So 2 months later, I applied and got a job as a tennis instructor in one of the academies in Miami.
Because of my name recognition in the area, I requested and got $40 an hour from customers. Slowly my reputation as a patient, polite, and good instructor got around, and more people were seeking my services.
One afternoon, after a long teaching session, 2 women approached me. The older one, a middle aged lady, said, "Sir, we've heard about your good reputation, and we watched you work with a couple of adults. We'd like to hire you to work with us."
I gazed at them, but the sun was in my eyes, and I could not see details. I blurted, "Thank you for the compliment, but I am fairly busy these days. If you wish, I can recommend another instructor who is very good at his job."
"Sir, with all due respect, we want YOU. I am willing to pay you extra and prefer you give us lessons in our private court."
"Lady, teaching privately the 2 of you will be expensive, and in my opinion, not worth it, compared to a much cheaper price by doing it here."
The older woman chuckled, "Money will not be an issue. Name your price and the times you can spare for us, and we'll have a deal."
I was tired and not in the mood, so without thinking, I said, "For private lessons outside these courts here, I charge $100 an hour. Care to rethink your offer?"
"$100 an hour it is! Can you dedicate AT LEAST one hour a week to each one of us?"
"Sorry to insist, but how do I know you can afford the steep charge?"
The older lady pulled out her wallet and showed me her ID. The name was Dora Thompson. I still didn't understand and stared at her, clueless.
"I am Anthony Caleb Thompson's wife. He is the second richest man in Florida, and a billionaire. You can google his name and find out for yourself. Both my daughter, Alma, and I would like you to teach us the game."
"OK. Tell you what. Let's start with a single lesson a week and continue based on your progress and your motivation. Would you rather have the lessons in the afternoon or morning?"
"My daughter is a college student, so the afternoon will be better. I'd rather have mine in the morning."
"Any particular day?"
"Your schedule is busy, so you decide, and we'll try to accommodate your wishes."
"Ma'am, give me both your phone numbers. I'll check my schedule and text you my preferences."
"Thank you and good day."
Later in the evening, I checked the calendar and starting the following week, arranged for Dora on Tuesday morning at 9 am and for Alma on Thursday at 4:30 pm. Ten minutes after texting them the dates and times, both were approved.
...
Tuesday morning, I arrived at the address I got from Dora. It was a huge fenced mansion. I rang the gate bell, and when I said it was Julio, the gate opened, and I drove about 500 feet to the entrance. Dora opened the door for me. It was the first time I could get a good look at her. She was around 40 years old, average height, about 135 pounds, shoulder length, wavy, dirty blonde hair, cute face, blue eyes, and a voluptuous figure. She wore a short white skirt and a performance tank, which accentuated her busty chest.
My first impression was that the lady was attractive, but if she was interested in getting into shape, tennis wouldn't be the best choice. Huge rack makes the body less mobile, and hitting the ball, especially backhand, would be tough. Starting at her age would make it even harder...
But before opening my mouth about my thoughts, I remembered 3 important things: Serena Williams was a great tennis player despite her big boobs, Dora never mentioned she wanted to do it for competitions, and the generous money I was promised.
I smiled at her and asked, "Before we start, shall I call you Mrs. Thompson?"
She had a pleasant laugh, "Please, don't. I prefer that you call me Dora, and I'll call you Julio. Would you like to drink something before we start?"
"I had breakfast at home."
"Let me show you our tennis court." She led me to the backyard, and there I saw a good court, a nice swimming pool, a 4 man jacuzzi, and a gazebo. The grass was neatly trimmed, and several fruit trees were spread around. A small flower garden with tulips, daffodils, and roses was in the shady area.
I brought with me a few rackets of different sizes and a basket with tennis balls.
"Dora, have you EVER tried using a tennis racket?"
"Only once. We were in Club Med in France, and I was urged to give it a try. Well, after about an hour or so, I was able to hit the ball with the racket..."
"That's good. Would you like to try an adult racket or a junior one?"
"Let's start with adult size. If I see it's too hard, I'll move to a junior one."
There was a large wall in one end of the court. I demonstrated how to hit the ball at the wall, and once it returned, I hit it again. I wanted to see if she could do it.
Dora held the racket the wrong way. I let her try. She succeeded in hitting the ball twice before it flew over the wall. She smiled embarrassingly. I said, "Not bad for a beginner, but I have some suggestions. First, the way you stand is too stiff and prevents you from moving around. Second, your grasp of the racket is inadequate. Let me show you what I mean."
I stood against the wall with my legs and back slightly bent. I started hitting the ball using light strokes, noticing from the corner of my eye that Dora was following my instructions. Then she tried again. Her body position was better, but the way she gripped the racket was not. I stood behind her, placed her fingers around the racket handle, and together we hit the ball a couple of times at the wall. Being that close to her, I could smell her. It was a faint odor of an expensive perfume. Then I moved away and let her attempt it one more time without me.
This time, she was more successful and was able to hit the ball 6 times before losing it to the far left.
I smiled at her, "Dora, we just started, and you are already doing much better. If you continue in that pace, in 2 months I'll come here to get lessons from you."
She giggled, "That will be the day. But you are a great tutor and... very strong."
"And you are a good student and... smell fantastic." Dora blushed.
We worked some more against the wall until she could hit it successively 20 times. By that time, 40 minutes had passed. Next, I suggested moving onto the court and trying to hit toward each other across the net. In the first 10 minutes, I ran about 5 miles from one place to another to chase her erratic balls. After that, I told her to take it easy, hit slower, use less force, and aim better. I made sure I sent her slow balls, which were aimed as close as possible at her racket.
I was ready to continue beyond the 1 hour I assigned to her, but Dora stopped and said, "That's enough for today. I have cold lemonade in the fridge. Drink a glass with me before leaving."
We sat in the spacious kitchen, and I marveled at how Dora was able to arrange it so nicely and with good taste without looking overly done. The whole time we drank, she gazed into my eyes, and I felt she inspected me. I left 10 minutes later, reminding her I'd be back next Tuesday.
...
Thursday afternoon, I returned to their house. Alma opened the door for me. I looked at her and saw a pretty, athletic, young girl, whom I immediately liked. Like her mother, her eyes were deep blue, and her hair was dirty blonde, though it was much longer and loose. Her figure was thinner with a smaller bust. She wore shorts and a T shirt. We went outside and I asked her if she had ever held a tennis racket. She blushed and said she did. Her former boyfriend taught her a little.
