Every once in a while, one of my friends sends me a juicy little blog they wrote... This one is rather juicy and I figured I'd share it with you guys
Enjoy!
It was a typical June afternoon in Kentucky, in other words, fucking hot and sticky. He had been teaching all morning and was starting to question some of the life decisions that had brought him here. A morning of beginners will do that to a guy. Pete, the owner of the club, his boss, walked out as he was packing up. "not so quick, your 2 pm is here." "Aw, c'mon Pete, she's 15 minutes late! I've been here all morning....do we even know who she is or anything about her?" but his protestations were lost, as he had been yelling into his raquet bag while packing up and when he looked up he saw, not Pete, but two very long, very shapely, and very tan legs connected to an equally appealing young woman....a young woman he knew and would happily stay late for....
"Oh, uh....hey Katie, I'm, um...sorry, if I had known, I woulda, uh..." she was used to his stammering, she was used to most guys stammering, and she saved him from tripping all over his tongue and apologized for being late. She surprised herself by not speaking as assuredly and confidently as usual, but he was dripping with sweat, and his deep tan caught her off guard as she hadn't seen him in the past month....a month which he had clearly spent outside, on the court. "no worries, I don't mind you being late at all. " He seemed to have found his footing again, and had stood up, his 6'4 frame providing her a little protection from the sun beating down on them both.
They chatted at the net for a second, just small talk, how's life, the job, etc etc....even the weather lately (so much rain in April and none since!). He asked if there was anything special she wanted to work on today and she said not really, that she just hadn't played much lately and her league was about to start and she didn't want to be too rusty. He said he wouldn't let that happen and that, besides, she had nothing to worry about even if she was, she would still be one of the better ones there. (he's always so sweet to me, and doesn't seem like he is flirting at all.) She told him that was sweet and they both backed away from the net to the service line to start the usual warm up routine. (Talk about sweet! She is so sweet, and such a flirt) That is one thing he always loved about seeing Katie. He was a bit of a flirt himself and their on court rallys were matched by verbal volleys that made his stomach tingle just a bit.
they played short court for a while and backed up to the baseline. While they hit his mind wandered a bit. He remembered when he first met her about a year ago. What a crush he had! He would think about her name, and found himself moaning it frequently while masturbating. Katie...he had a college crush named Katie. His friends teased him and called her 'blue' on account of the absolutely biggest bluest eyes anyone had ever seen. After he slept with her his friends took to calling her 'super k' and 'special k' after he shared details of the mindblowing blow jobs she gave. He have never really liked being on the receiving end until he met her.
He came back to earth remembering that she had been late and probably wanted to do more than just hit today so he told her to get a drink and pick up the balls and they would work on a few things. They got some nice cool water (sooooo hot out!), she poured some over her delicate wrists where the veins were closest to the surface and he poured some down the back of his neck, that made his shirt cling to his chest delightfully.
He caught her eyes on his chest and felt his heart pick up a beat or two per minute. 'ok, I noticed that you are hitting your forehand a little flatter than you can get away with. You have good power, let's work on adding some topspin. So, I want to talk about your grip." (mmm.. yes, let's talk about grips.....and shafts....and how I grip the shaft.) You know the saying, 'grip it and rip it?" (ugh, there he goes sounding ridiculous again, all testosteroney....and male. but that is what I am after all...) . He went with her to her baseline and had her do a slow mo swing while he sidled up behind her and changed her grip slightly. She could smell him. He stunk. But not really in a bad way. And she was getting a little wet. In a very very good way.
The remainder of the lesson was about 20 minutes of him trying to not think about the throbbing that was going on in his shorts. They worked on her forehand and backhand, and a little on her serve before he ended the lesson, as always with feeding her lobs so she could hit overheads. He found this to be a little therapeutic for most clients....getting to smash the ball as heard as they wanted finally after so much controlled aggression. She seemed to particularly enjoy it today and had a big smile on her face as they headed toward the clubhouse. "great hitting today, you will be fine...be more than fine, you will be great." "thanks, appreciate it." "no problem, I'm going to hit the showers, I'm all done for the day." :ok,me too, I am too, I have to get back to work and I am dripping head to toe!
"hey, um...katie? ..>I hope this isn''t inappropriate, but...there;s a water shortage, and , uh...:" Oh god, there he goes stammering again. To save him from tripping over his tongue again, I decide to occupy his tongue.
-Anonymous
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