The Tennis lesson - All Fetish Forums

SVerberghe · #1 11-06-13, 10:58

This has been my favorite place on the internet. And recently I decided to contribute and share some stories of my own. English isn't my first language but i tried my hardest to eliminate any spelling or grammar errors, i'm very sorry if there are still any left. Also i couldn't find any clear rules as to what kind of detail is allowed, but i think this is a mild story well within bounds.

The tennis lesson

Romy tied the lace of her tennissneaker very tightly. She rose up from the dressing room floor, smoothed her white skirt and unzipped her racket out of the slipcover. With her fingers around the handle, she sauntered outside. A few girls were already playing. Romy sat on the bench at the side and waited for the teacher to arrive.

Instead of the rugged miss Adaway, a hansom young man entered the court. Romy recognized him immediately. His face was all over the photos inside the trophy cabinet in the canteen. The cabinet contained the pride of the club, a trophy nearly as tall as she was. The man had won it at the European Junior Championships. Although he was older now – she estimated him around 25 – his light brown hair was held back with the same fillet as in the pictures and his blue eyes were still as triumphant, or arrogant even. They shared a glance, he looked at her short and penetrating. Romy shyly looked at her feet and kicked the side of her own tennisracket.

‘Miss Adaway can’t be here today, due to some personal issues,’ the young men said.

‘Why? What’s going on?’ one of the more daring girls asked. It was the kind of girl, that could wrap anyone around her finger, due to her blond hair, her smiley cheeks, and most of all her big wellrounded breasts. She’d probably been dating since high school, she was one of the popular ones. Romy sometimes was afraid of her, she herself was anything but popular. She had a reddish type of haircolor, not even properly red, more a sandy sorrel type of red, she had wreckels all over her body. And her boobs, even though they were firm, she tought they were too small. She wasn’t ugly, her friends told her over and over again they were jealous of her athletic body. But still she didn’t get any of the male attention she longed for. She didn’t even know how it felt to be in love.

‘You too.’ The men suddenly stood behind her, put his hand upon her shoulder en softly sqeezed. ‘Stop dreaming and show me your best backhand.’

Romy looked around to see what was expected, and then she started to do the same exercise as the other girls. The man – Julian, she suddenly remembered his name – walked around the tenniscourt and corrected some of the girls. He even wrapped his arms all around the perky blonde one, to show her how to hold her racket, just like in the movies. Romy stared at them, what if that was her, what if he wrapped himself around her like that? She shrugged it of, she would probably faint or stutter or somehow make a big fool out of herself. Instead of pretending she couldn’t hold a racket, like the other girls, she worked harder then ever. She ran up and down the court, the gravel crackled under her white sneakers, her sweaty red curls stuck to her fore head.

‘Nice one,’ Julian exclaimed, after Romy barely returned a difficult ball. Her cheeks already red from the physical exercise colored two shades darker, she gave him a shy smile. At the end of the lesson, she was tired. Out of breath she ran up to a ball, she had almost won the little match they played. She tripped over her own feet, her ankle stung. She was on the ground, her knee and elbow grazed on the gravel.

‘Are you alright?’ Julian asked. He squatted down, his fingers poked through her sock. ‘Is this hurting you?’

She nodded. All other girls surrounded her. She did it again, she once again made a fool of herself. Tears filled her eyes, she tried to blink them away. She pressed her nails into the palm of her hand, to suppress the pain in her foot and tried to stand up. She immediately fell back down.

‘I’ll help you,’ Julian said. He picked her up and craddle carried her inside. ‘Class is over for today,’ he said, looking over his shoulder to the other girls, ‘don’t forget to sign up for the club tournament next weekend.’

The other girls slouched of, they put away their tennisrackets and dissappeared into the dressing room. Julian carried Romy all the way trough the tiled hallway, at the end of it he unlocked a green door. Romy always thought it was some sort of closet, with cleaning materials and old nets and stuff, but once inside she couldn’t believe her eyes. There was a shiny new massage table and a proper first-aid kit.

‘Isn’t it beautiful,’ Julian said. He sounded very proud. Romy didn’t knew what to say, she frantically searched for words, but her mind was blanking, his body so close to hers, the warmth of his chest agains her arm, the smell of him, just everything in his presence made her woozy.

She said the first thing that sprung to mind. ‘I thought this was a closet.’

‘It was, up untill a week ago,’ he said. ‘but i thought we needed a room for physiotherapy, didn’t we? I furnished it myself.’ Slowly he sat her down on the table, her feet dangling over the edge. He turned away from her and locked the door. ‘You’re the first one to use it.’

Despite the pain inside her ankle, Romy couldn’t stop smiling. Julian opened a small refrigerator and Romy saw a flash of brown glass medicine bottles, the fridge door rammed shut before she could read any of the labels. She looked around, there were no windows, and the poster with a schematic view of the muscles in a neck didn’t cover up all of the brick wall. It still felt very much like a big closet. In a corner on the ceiling a small spider worked on his web.

‘Here you go,’ Julian said. He handed her a glass with a foggy liquid. Romy took a small sip. It was way to bitter for her taste, chills ran down her spine. She didn’t dare to say she didn’t like it, so she took an even smaller sip and then put it aside.

‘It’s good for you,’ Julian said. ‘It’s minerals to substitute the ones you lost by training. It’s best to drink it all at once.’

Romy hesitated and put the smooth glas against her lips. He nodded friendly, his eyes so blue, so unbelievable blue, hypnotising almost, she didn’t want to be a whiny brat and poured everything into her mouth. In the meantime he had gotten himself a stool and sat next to her. Carefully he unlaced her shoe, and slid the sneaker of her foot, without hurting her ankle. He peeled of her sock, his fingers up against her pale skin, so softly.

A wave of warmth and affection flew through her body. She didn’t feel as nervous anymore, she felt nice and relaxed, careless even somehow.

‘I like you,’ she said. She giggled and slammed her hand in front of her mouth.

‘Is that so?’ Julian asked with a surpressed smile. His fingers ran up and down her foot, her heel, her instep, her toes. Romy didn’t know how long he went on, it seemed like an eternity. It was pleasant though, and maybe her foot and ankle just needed lots and lots of massaging in order to heal. She didn’t feel the pain anymore, but she didn’t tell him. And when Julian also removed her other shoe and sock and started massaging her healthy foot, she still kept quiet.

A dizzying warmth filled her body, her mind, it was as if the room around her desintegrated, it changed into a free string of sensations, his fingers against her skin, her ankles, her shins, her knees, the palm of his hand up against her innerthigh. His hair tickling her nose, his mouth close by hers, she opend her lips, and welcomed his tongue. She was sleepy, her eyes slowly shut, she immediatly opened them again. She couldn’t fall asleep now! She needed to kiss him some more. He wasn’t kissing her at all. He was studying her ankle with a worried face. She must have nodded of, his kiss must have been a fragment of a dream. She fought against the weariness, she pressed her nails deeply into her skin in an attempt to get a grip on reality. What was going on? What was happening to her? Is this what being in love felt like?

‘Don’t hurt yourself sweety,’he said and tenderly he pulled her nails and her hand away. He said more, much more. But she couldn’t understand a thing, he used words she didn’t knew. Must have been some medical therms, she thought. About her ankle. She tried to focus, was it about her feet? What was it, he was talking about?

Now he had stopped talking. The silence murmured in her ears. He looked at her, why was he looking at her like that? What did he want from her?

She nodded, she didn’t know why.

‘Are you sure?’ he asked.

She nodded again. He would know, right? He would know what he was doing. A large syringe appeared in his hand, he pressed the little silver needle in her upperleg. Usually she was scared of needles, at the dokters or the dentists, but today it meant nothing to her. Her languid giddy thoughts were much too far away to realize what was happening. In awe she stared at the liquid dissapearing inside her muscle. Julian removed the needle and massaged her leg, that felt dull and heavy now. His hands kneading her thigh and the place of the sting, his fingers slid onder her skirt. The hazzyness didn’t go away, from her leg it moved up into the rest of her body. Gravity pulled harder and harder. Her numb limbs were difficult to move. She would fall, she knew it for sure, she would fall. She tried to grap onto something, but she couldn’t raise her arms anymore. Just before she would slide of of the table and smash into the floor, he catched her and placed her paralyzed body backwards on the table.

His fingers carresed her forehead, slowly stroking her curly red hair from her face. He pressed a light kiss on her cheeks and then on her lips. She tried to kiss him back, but she couldn’t move at all.

‘Well well,’ he mumbled and he removed the white tennis skirt from her hips. He lifted her half of the table, and took of her top. He admired her body, caressing, fondling, groping. He massaged every little part of her. Every once in a while he said something, but most of the time Romy was too woozy to understand him. She had no clue for how long this was going on and would go on. Though she did feel she was becoming more lucid over time. The fragments of her sences string toghether and compiled a reality. She couldn’t move, Julian was there, she was naked, he was touching her, more and more she grasped the nature of what was happening to her, slowly each piece of the puzzle fell into place.

She had to get out of there, she had to get out of there, now! Her body was still unable to move, she just laid there, helpless, incapable of escaping from his fumbling hands. Her nipple in between his thumb and index finger, his hand slowly moving down, past her bellybutton untill it was between her legs. His lips against her face, her earlobe, his tongue stroking her neck. I can’t like this, she said to herself, I must not like this. She tried to focus on the spider on the ceiling. But she couldn’t help herself, arrousel started somewhere deep down and bubbled it’s way through her mind and body. The thought itself, that she was totally vurnarable in front of him, that he could do whatever he wanted, it was enough to release a throbbing exitement, his fingers, his touches, ever so tender, maybe even polite. It had to be allright. This couldn’t be wrong. His voice soothing and comforting.

Pleasures piled themselves, one wave of arrousel would flood her before the previous one had subsided. She surrendered herself, minutes, ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, she didn’t know. After a while she noticed her fingertips and her lips could move. She opened and closed her mouth a few times. Julian saw. Abruptly he let go of her and turned around.

‘We aren’t done yet, we aren’t done by far.’ He showed the cuffs in his hand.

‘No. What are you going to do with me?’ She asked, but she already knew. ‘Let me go please.’ She begged not very dedicated, somewhere deep down a curiousity was awakened. Most of her body still paralized from the injection, her head rolled from side to side and her fingertips managed to grap on to a piece of his shirt. The arms and legs totally limb, he could position her however he wanted. He tied her down with her arms above her head, legs spread apart.

So vurnerable, he could see every part of her, but he didn’t look. He stood bent over the table, preoccupied. She heard the banging of a glass jar being set onto a table, she heard the –

He turned aroud. In his hands a white towel, neatly folded. He placed it over her nose and mouth, the sharp fumes made her eyes tear up, the inside of her mouth dry. The sweet synthetic smell filled up her nostrills and lungs. She became dizzy.

‘No, whaat...’ Her voice was dripping and sticky like syryp, it echoed in her ears, it rang, it kept ringing. She tried to focus, but reality was slowly slipping away from her. Her eyes blinking, frantically blinking. It was impossible to open them one more time. Her thoughts slowed down untill they faded away in delightfull unconsiousness.