My friend Dylan has always been a huge tennis fan. I can't really say the same for myself. My knowledge of tennis only goes as far as watching a few games of Serena Williams on tv. But that's not to say I'm clueless about the game, either. I get the general gist of it. You know, smack a small yellow ball over a net better than your opponent. Or is it a green ball? Whatever! I'm not going to have that stupid argument with Dylan again!
Needless to say, I'm not very good at smacking a yellowish-green ball over a net. At least not better than Dylan. He's been clapping me every time we stepped on the court. But Dylan doesn't rub it all in my face. He's actually very supportive of me improving my game. Probably to make things fairer and to have someone else to practice with before his tournament games.
"Hey man, your groundstroke wasn't so bad that time. You're really improving. I would help train you, but I can only afford time for some quick matches before I have to meet up with my coach. But there's this personal trainer I've read about online who's apparently one of the best. He's got 5-star reviews across the board! I really think you should check him out!"
Personally speaking, I'm not the type of person to hire personal trainers for other sports I play, like soccer or golf. But hearing all these great things about this guy, in particular, from Dylan convinced me to give it a shot. And I don't regret that decision one bit. Sure his teaching methods are a bit odd and downright strange at times, but I've been seeing results since I started his program last week. Therefore I don't question it.
Today he said we were going to practice my stroke. So I packed my skimpy tennis bra, white boy shorts, and a girly tennis skirt. Strange, I know. Just don't tell Dylan about that part. Upon arriving at his private tennis court, I was met with the same odd question he asked at the beginning of every other practice session.
"So what will it be today, girly? Amelia, Madison, or Reilly?"
"Umm, how about Amelia today." I always felt extremely good after a good training session with the Amelia technique.
"Excellent choice, dear," my trainer smiled and winked as he handed me my tennis racket and ball. I couldn't help but bite my lips. He was so dreamy, and I loved how flirty he got during my practice. For the whole hour, I couldn't get my eyes off his crotch. He even caught me staring at his dick once. I tried to play it off by brushing my long blonde hair to the side as I quickly glanced away, but my flushed face wasn't doing me any favors.
*Jeez, girl, you're such a slut! Pull yourself together. Just cuz you're horny doesn't mean you should be thirsty over this hunk of a man!*
I was able to maintain my composure for the most part. Well, that was until we started working on my stance. Having my trainer's body all up against mine was driving me mad. His muscles massaged and rubbed against my soft sensitive skin. I felt a shiver move all across my body, but I was able to stop myself from uncontrollably squirming. But the moment his face was next to mine, his manly scent rose up my nose and into my head. I instinctively let out a soft feminine moan that, no matter what, would have eventually escaped my lips.
"It seems, cutie, that you're ready for the last part of your training today. Hurry up and pick up any loose balls lying around and meet me, you know where," my trainer whispered into my ear as he kissed my cheek lightly.
Giggling, I skipped around the court, picking up all the tennis balls as quickly as possible. As I bent over for my first ball, I felt a quick hand smack my firm ass. Letting out a cute yelp, I realized my pussy was getting so wet now I could hardly think straight.
When I finally finished, I found the sexy man in the bathroom of his luxurious mansion. I was practically drooling at this point. I only had one thing on my ditzy mind right now, to taste all of this man's delicious cum. Getting to work, I wrapped my plump lips around the tip and shaft of his throbbing cock. With a final grunt, the man shot his warm semen down the back of my throat, which I gladly swallowed in pleasure.
"You did great today, Amelia! I want you to; take a shower and, afterward, leave a five-star review on my website about how great your experience was today. Oh, and don't forget to schedule our next appointment. I'm sure your mind has slowly regained enough intelligence to complete these tasks. If you do good, I might even let you work on more than just your stroke next time!"
My mind was still a bit giddy, but I managed to conjure up the question. Maybe I should bring Dylan along for our next appointment.
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