Summary:
Pretty tennis player blackmailed into lesbian submission.
Note:
This story is dedicated to the real Erin!
Note 2:
This is a summer 2015 Contest story so please vote.
Note 3: Thanks to goamz86, Robert, and Wayne for editing.
BLACKMAILED TENNIS SUBMISSIVE
Beating Kelly, my arch-enemy, in the semi-finals was the greatest moment in my tennis career. After losing the first set 7-5, I bounced back to win the second set 6-4. The third set was the most gruelling set of my life as we were tied 6-6, neither of us able to break the other...which sent us to a tie-breaker. It was an intense tie-breaker where three times I staved off match point before coming back to win 14-12.
I threw my Wilson Blade 98 racket up in the air when she couldn't get to my drop shot and dropped to my knees.
Kelly, breathing heavy, hate in her eyes, sweat dripping down her forehead, quipped, "Get used to being in that position."
I quipped right back, "On my knees in victory stance."
She smirked, a strange confidence in her since I had just defeated her, "Sure, that's what I meant."
I got up, everyone watching for the traditional handshake, and extended my hand. "Good match," I said politely.
She didn't respond as she shook my hand with an unexplainable look in her eyes.
I went back and hugged my coach who said, "Way to go, Erin."
Seconds later, my parents joined me on the court and congratulated me too. I was on cloud nine having beaten Kelly after three straight losses to the tomboy.
She was from the other side of the tracks...the slums as we called it....in reality, she was my polar opposite in every possible way except tennis.
I come from well off parents, am an easy going, fun loving, live for the moment, fashion conscious girl.
Kelly, on the other hand, didn't have a father around as far I could tell, was ridiculously serious, I had never seen her smile (even after beating me), she dressed all in black and didn't say much...which made her strange words after my victory even stranger.
Even our looks were polar opposites. Even though we both were in great physical shape with well-toned bodies (but that's pretty much all tennis players...the sport demands it), that was where our similarities ended.
Kelly was a ginger, with a lot of freckles and green eyes. She could actually be pretty if she tried to be a girl. Me, on the other hand, am a brunette, with hazel eyes, and had no problem getting attention from the boys.
The only thing she had that I didn't were big breasts. I was almost flat, which was a bonus when playing tennis, but not so much when I was wearing a dress. Thankfully, push-up bras did wonders in creating the illusion that my barely B-cups were a lot more. Kelly, on the other hand, had big tits and I often wondered if they were a hindrance on the court. It was a shame to waste such breasts on a tomboy.
After downing the rest of my water to rehydrate myself after the match, I headed to the showers to clean off before that night's social.
Being the last match of the day, the area was empty except for Kelly and me. My parents were meeting me at Marshall's, an upscale restaurant, for supper, something we always did after a final, win or lose.
Kelly, in her sports bra and panties and the dumb ass camouflage hat she always wore on the court, which only helped to confirm her tomboy persona, said, her words often implying a compliment until the last one, "I didn't think you had it in you, Barbie."
"First of all, Barbie is blonde," I pointed out. "secondly, since you dress like a boy, you really shouldn't name call. Fuck, your name is even a boy's' name."
"So is yours bimbo," she shot back.
I sighed, "Not spelt my way."
"Whatever," she shrugged, grabbing my tennis racket from my bag.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked, reaching for my racket. No one touched my racket...ever.
"You really are a bimbo, aren't you?" she smirked, pulling it away. "I'm holding your new fuck-toy."
"Fuck you," I snapped, almost tripping when she moved her hand away.
"That is the plan," she smirked.
I grabbed the racket back and snapped, "Fuck, you're a sore loser."
"Actually, you beat me fair and square," she shrugged. "This isn't about you defeating me. It's about making you my personal plaything."
"What?" I asked, not sure I heard her right, even though obviously I had.
"On your knees, slut," she ordered.
"Excuse me?" I gasped, shocked that his common bitch would dare speak to me in such a way.
"They were all one syllable words, bimbo Barbie," she smirked.
"Fuck you," I shot back, not backing down to some rubbish from the other side of the tracks.
"More eloquence," she smirked, before she added, "Want to see a photo of someone we both know?"
"Not really," I said, my disdain in my tone obvious.
"You sure?" she smiled. "She told me a very interesting story about you."
"Oh yeah," I shrugged, acting like I didn't give a damn, "and what would that be?"
"It's a story about a girl who was seduced by a college cheerleader at a party a couple of months ago," she revealed.
My face went pale.
"What? No, witty comeback from Barbie?" she asked, her smile so smug.
I flashbacked to just a couple of months ago:
Mike, my boyfriend of two years, had broken up with me and my friends tried to cheer me up by taking me to a party full of college football players. I planned to hook up with some sexy football player, but that isn't what happened.
I was pretty drunk and sitting on a couch downstairs, trying to stop my head from spinning, when a cheerleader, still in her cheerleading outfit, sat beside me.
We chatted for a few minutes, although I can't remotely remember what about, when I felt her hand on my leg. What happened next, I remember vividly.
"Have you ever been with a girl?" she asked, her blue eyes boring in on me.
Trying to act sophisticated, like a college girl and not a high school student, I flirtatiously responded, "Does right now count?"
"I think it may," she smiled, her hand going up my skirt.
My body trembled at her touch. As she reached my thigh high tops, she said, surprised, "Oh my, how sexy."
I had started wearing thigh highs for Mike, who had a stocking fetish, but had really liked the feeling of dressing sexy underneath my preppy attire and continued to wear them after the dick broke up with me.
I didn't speak, briefly paralyzed by her touch. When with a boy, I was in charge; yet, in this moment I felt completely at her whim.
"Do you want to go upstairs?" she asked, as her fingers reached my suddenly damp panties and I let out a soft moan. "I am sure we could find a place a little more private."
"S-s-sure," I stammered, as I looked and saw a few college boys enjoying the show.
She stood up, took my hand and led me through the throngs of sexy boys I had planned to potentially have fuck me. The first two doors were locked, but the third wasn't and once the door was closed, she pushed me against the wall and kissed me.
I couldn't believe how soft her lips were. I couldn't believe I was kissing a girl...a college girl. I couldn't believe how wet I was.
I returned her kiss, our tongues exploring each other as she began to unbutton my blouse. My blouse opened, she broke the kiss and buried her face between my small breasts. My head spun, although I had been drunk, I was sobering up fast as I experienced my first lesbian moment.
She asked, "Are you in high school still?"
"Yes," I admitted.
"And you have never been with a girl before?" she asked, as she pulled her sweater over her head, revealing breasts much bigger than mine.
"Unless spin the bottle counts," I joked, trying to break the awkwardness I was feeling.
"Delicious, I love breaking in high school girls," she smiled, as she pulled her skirt off.
Only in a bra, pantyhose and panties, she moved back to me and pulled my skirt down. Looking up at me, she asked, "Are you wet because of me?"
"Y-y-yes," I admitted, my cheeks burning.
"Do you want me to eat your cunt?" she asked.
"God, yes," I replied, as she tugged down my panties.
"A shaved cunt too," she purred, "you really are an adorably sexy little slut."
Being called a slut any other time would have sent me into a rage, but at the moment all it did was enhance my eagerness to submit to her.
"Tell me what you want," she ordered, as she knelt, her face now just a couple inches from my exposed pussy.
"For you, to-to-to, lick me," I stammered.
"Lick your what?' she asked, as her head moved so close I could feel her hot breath on my pussy lips.
"My pussy, please lick my pussy," I begged.
Without another word, she leaned forward and began licking me.
I moaned loudly, the contact on my pussy like pressing the button to start a gas fire place. Unlike boys, who just licked randomly, if they went down there at all, this college girl knew what she was doing. She licked, probed, and teased, bringing me pleasure unlike I had ever experienced before. I had never come from oral sex with a boy, but she had me in a sexual frenzy in only a couple of minutes.
My moans increasing, I warned, "I'm going to come soon."