Training Technique

I knew that I was being irrational but I was left with little time for reflection. A second girl, a blonde with a passing resemblance to Reese Witherspoon, was already removing her panties and any vague hope that my ordeal was over cruelly evaporated.

As she approached I shook my head in fierce denial but she simply laughed. It occurred to me then that they knew that they had all the time in the world. I still hoped that someone would come looking for me but now a new possibility arose. Was my reputation now such that anyone seeing me disappear with four gorgeous dancers would assume that I would want some privacy?

This turn of thought froze me for a moment and that was all the incentive the blonde needed. She straddled my head but, unlike her friend, she faced down my body towards my feet.

I could see that she too was depilated except for a tiny fringe at the apex which looked like a downward pointing arrowhead but then darkness fell as she sealed me in.

She was certainly not put off by the fact that the stocking was already wet and there was to be no gentle start. She immediately began to rake herself over my whole face and it was obvious that the first girls' performance had got to her. She was already wet and the insidious panties soaked up her juices up like a sponge.

Breathing was difficult and I tried to swallow to ease my quickly drying throat but there was now no escaping the ever stronger taste which had long since lost its allure. I tried to keep a focus by counting but I repeatedly lost the thread not least because my tormentress insisted on being theatrical.

She leaned forward, almost lying flat along my body, and then wiggled her tush. The others found this highly amusing but it resulted in her painfully mashing my face. I growled in frustration, encouraging another burst of laughter, but it resulted in fresh devilment.

Without warning she pushed her face down into my crotch and I felt a tiny, but insistent, pressure as she worked her tongue through the swaddling mesh.

Her thighs were pressed against my ears but I could hear enough to know that she was doing a passable impression of a porn actress. The problem was that it was so near yet so far. I could feel the warmth of her mouth through my skirt and underwear, and my sex began to react accordingly, but it would never be enough to bring me the satisfaction I sought. It was so cruel. I had longed for something like this but now I was completely powerless.

Cheered on by the others she hammed up her performance for a few more minutes but then her own needs overcame her. She sat up once more and began to rub herself over my face with renewed vigour. Her climax was not long in coming and now there was no acting. She braced herself with the simple expedient of pressing down on my breasts and then she let herself go.

The panties soaked it up and now, in my own heightened state of arousal, the taste once again acted like a drug fuelling my own desperate need.

I knew there was no escape, they would all take their turn, and they were so at ease with one another that it was obvious that they were not new to this - and that gave me hope. The blonde girl had intimated that she was not averse to going down on me; surely once they had taken their pleasure it had be my turn.

The next girl was already getting herself ready. She was the one who had led the troupe in a raunchy mambo routine and I was guessing from her colouring that she may have been Cuban.

Having slipped out of her panties she slowly and deliberately removed her skirt and then turned slightly towards me. The wetness of the stocking was making it harder to see but I could make out the perfection of her taut buns as she no doubt intended me to.

She had long, coltish, legs and the firm, twin, globes, formed a crowning glory. She shimmied playfully and then approached.

"Are you ready for me?...because I am more than ready for you."

Her pride in her chief asset was obvious as she eased herself into place over my face adopting the same position that her friend had just relinquished. She looked to be the least heavy of the group but, now that she was poised just inches above me, the dark, unblemished, orbs seemed to bespeak a menacing weightiness.

She settled slowly, as though aware of the fear she inspired, and as light gave way to pressing darkness I felt a sense of claustrophobia that I had not been aware of with the others.

At first, she remained still, demanding admiration, but I desperately wanted her to move; at least then she would not be a dead weight. She had also perspired more than the others and the tiny pocket of air available to me had a briny redolence.

When, at last, she did begin to move, I immediately regretted it. Her movements were sinuous as she writhed from the hips and I realized that she was dancing on my face to some unheard tune.

With the others there had been a predictable rhythm which allowed me to brace myself and time my breathing but now there was no such luxury. She was literally grinding out her pleasure and the coarse tuft of dark hair that ran the length of her sex felt as if it were abrading my skin.

Time seemed to stretch forever but she showed no signs of stopping and certainly no sign of an impending climax. I thought I had reached the depths of misery but I was wrong. Without warning she lifted herself slightly and reached back to take hold of her solidly muscled rump The deep, dark, cleft opened a little and then she lowered herself once more.

She was centred over my face which now felt as though it were gripped in a vice. Breathing through my nose was rendered impossible forcing me to draw air through the, by now, fetid panties and this was all part of her design.

I became aware of a new movement and it took a few seconds for me to realize that she was masturbating. As well as I could judge her fingers were moving quickly but every now and then she slowed down and leaned forward slightly. I could only guess that she was pausing to push her fingers inside and then the reason became apparent.

The panties began to take on a fresh taste which suggested that she had made herself so wet that she was dripping on to them. A fresh outburst of laughter and cheering from the others seemed to confirm this.

This went on for some time and all the while my head felt as though it would crack beneath her weight. I was by now in genuine distress. I was incredibly hot but, at the same time, it felt as if I could no longer sweat. Added to this was a craving for fresh air which manifested itself as a dull ache in my chest.

I was beginning to think that I should succumb and let myself black out; they would then have no choice but to release me. This was an easy decision to make but much harder to put into practice. I was to find that my body was prepared to fight even though my mind had surrendered

Fortunately, my last gasp struggles gave her all the encouragement that she needed and, with a final banshee wail, she started to come.

Her friends shouted approval and I could soon feel why. She braced herself against my face and through my sports top I began to feel heavy spatters of warm moisture followed by a final series of lingering droplets heavy enough to be felt through the stocking and panties..

It seemed to take an effort for her to lift herself from me and, once she had, I shook my head in desperation. Had I been capable I would have begged but then it seemed my prayers were answered.

The brunette loomed over me and, using the edge of her fingernail, she slit open the stocking over my mouth. I immediately used my tongue to expel the panties and when they almost free she flicked them disdainfully onto the floor

My mouth was dry and thick with the taste of them but I was glad just to breathe normally. The urge to swear at them almost overcame me but I was still helpless and so I kept myself in check.

If the Cuban girl had been proud of her backside then the brunette was equally proud of her impressive breasts. As I watched she proceeded to undress completely and, once naked, she began to tease her already excited nipples.

For a dancer her breasts were large. They were classically shaped, and each would have fitted snuggly into a champagne saucer, but it was her nipples which really demanded attention. The teats themselves were long and tumid, a dark salmon pink standing proud in the wide rosy fields of her areolae.

"Suck it..."

She bent over me presenting her breast to my mouth and driven by some long-buried instinct I began to lick at it. It felt so right in my mouth, helping me to produce some much needed saliva, and very soon I was sucking it gently between my lips.

"Oh sister, you are a natural."

Even after all I had been through I took a perverse pride in her praise and when, inevitably, I was called upon to lavish attention on her other breast I found myself desperately trying to please her.

I think that she would have been content to let me suckle for hours but I sensed an impatience amongst the others and she reluctantly withdrew.

I knew what was coming next, it was confirmed as she rubbed her hand over her mound smearing it with moisture, but I felt that I had made a connection with her. As she looked down at me I must have appeared pathetic, my red, ravaged, face still swathed in the wet, messy, stocking but I tried to plead.

"Please, I've had enough..."

For a second or two her face took on a sympathetic expression but then she smirked with laughter.

"If you think you're leaving me high and dry, forget it. I'm looking forward to some very personal attention."

With that she stepped over the bench to present her sex to my mouth but she continued to play the exhibitionist. Looking down she used one hand to stimulate her nipples whilst, with the other, she stroked her prominent labia wafting me with her scent in the process.

"Are you ready? I've made myself all creamy just thinking about you."

Just to demonstrate her point she opened herself to reveal a wet coral cave strung with gossamer threads which, even now, made my mouth water.

I do not know if she came to me or I to her but I thrust my tongue greedily inside and swallowed all she had to give.

For a few moments she was content, even amused, to watch me in my feeding frenzy but as my tongue began to have its inevitable effect she focused more fully on her own needs. She moved fractionally so that I could reach her fully engorged clitoris and it took very little thereafter to finish her off.

At the point of crisis she took hold of my head in her hands and her weight began to bear down on me until finally her feet left the floor and her legs opened in a wide gymnastic vee.

I think that then I finally blacked out.

When I managed, once again, to bring my surroundings back into some sort of focus my head felt as if I had been repeatedly coshed and I was stupefied. I dimly registered the brunette getting dressed in the periphery of my vision but then a shadow fell over me.

"Wakey, wakey sleepy head. You're not finished yet..."

Chapter 6

They left me in the shower where I wanted to remain forever under the comforting warms jets but, out in the real world, there was a flight to catch. My body ached all over and my skin was criss crossed with the imprint of the nylon netting but by the time I had finished washing my hair the marks were already beginning to fade.

I feared, for a moment, to go back into the changing area but, whilst their costumes were still there, the room was empty.

I was forced to wear my soiled kit in order to make my way back to my own locker room but it seemed that, here too, everyone else had left. I dressed quickly and was able to slip out quietly whilst everyone's attention was focused on the mens final. Under other circumstances I would have stayed to watch but I was in no mood.

Whilst the others were to fly back to Denmark I was flying to London. I had some commercial sponsorship obligations and I wanted to meet my parents on their return from their three month sojourn to Australia and New Zealand.

For the next few days life returned to something like normal. Eschewing my own flat I stayed with my parents who were overjoyed by my victory but bitterly disappointed that they had missed out on being there to see it by just a couple of days

On the sponsorship front my paymasters were equally happy and there was talk of extended contracts. Everything seemed peachy but when the time came to return to Denmark I was a mess of mixed emotions. I now firmly believed that, with Agnetha's guidance, I could go all the way but the question was at what cost.

Whilst in England I had even received a congratulatory phone call from John, my former coach. He was his usual flirty self and for a few seconds I felt the return of the old frisson. There was no way that I was going to start up with him again but I was encouraged by this evidence of heterosexual yearnings.

Back in Aarhus I had just two weeks to prepare for Danish Open and then the plan was for us all to decamp to Anaheim for the World Championship. I quickly found that the atmosphere in our little community had changed. I continued to remain aloof but both Agnetha and the others seemed to be treating me with a new found respect. Between themselves they still played out their games of forfeits but I was left to my own devices.

I trained hard and retired early each night whereupon I would normally masturbate myself to sleep. The trouble was that my fantasies seemed centred on the people around me and I even climaxed whilst conjuring up images of the abuse I had suffered in Holland. In a determined effort to put things right I started surfing the porn channels available on the satellite TV but, whilst I found the boy/girl imagery arousing, I almost invariably flicked to the German girl/girl channel when I needed to climax.

By the eve of the Danish open I was badly on edge. When on court I found myself looking at the others in an entirely inappropriate way but, at the same time, I felt so ashamed by what I had already done.

That evening I skipped my meal and went straight to my room. I determined that I would not switch on the TV but within half an hour my resolution had crumbled. I was naked on the bed with my hands between my legs when there was a knock at the door.

I was tempted to shout out, telling them to go away, but there was a possibility that it might have been Agnetha. I got up, threw on night shirt, and quickly washed my hands.

I was surprised to find Katya standing at the door holding two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries.

"Can I come in?"

I wanted to say no but the local coffee shop was a fair distance from the complex and she had obviously put herself out

It was only as I stood aside to let her enter that it occurred to me that there might still be a tell-tale scent in the air but she did not seem to notice.

"You missed dinner. I thought you might be hungry."

She took out two Danish pastries from the bag and offered me one. They clearly contravened our strict dietary regime but, right then, comfort food was just what I needed. What I thought was coffee turned out to be delicious hot chocolate and whilst we sat and ate we discussed our preparations for the following day's tournament.

I had warmed to Katya ever since she had revealed to me the secret of the court markings but I felt awkward because I was sure that she must know about my unsavoury conduct. If this was the case she gave no hint of it and it was comforting to be able to just chat to her as a friend.

She was almost four years older than me but, with her blonde curls and a face that was prone to flush easily, she actually looked younger. In fact it was a lethal combination. She had a curvy, mature, figure with a baby doll face and, when we were out in town, men of all ages would be drawn to her. In short, she was enigmatic, and I have to admit that, in my more lurid moments, she had featured in my guilty flights of fancy.

I now felt really bad about those improper thoughts. She was a genuinely nice person who was reaching out to me. We talked for another hour or so but I was becoming conscious of the time; I needed a goods nights sleep and there was still a little personal matter that needed attending to.

I half stood, dropping a hint, but as she followed suite, quickly trying to finish the dregs of her chocolate she managed to miss her mouth.

"Shit."

It ran down her chin onto her breasts which were covered by a white cropped sports top. Reacting quickly, and without modesty, she whipped off the top to prevent it from being stained.

I had seen her naked on many occasions but the confines of my room conferred an uneasy intimacy. Her breasts were so sharply uplifted as to be almost conical and her nipples formed a pair of delicate dusky crowns.

"Can I borrow a towel?"

I realized that I had been staring but I watched in fascination as the runnel of chocolate trailed between her breasts and down over the pale plane of her stomach before disappearing into the deep pit of her navel only to reappear once more.

I dragged myself back to reality and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Dashing back I began to dab at her but the chocolate had already begun to seep into her pink jogging pants.

"Damn it."

She pulled the waist of the pants away from herself slightly and I blotted up the mess but not before noticing that she was not wearing panties. She was totally depilated but for a near invisible blonde furze, which was suggestive of a little laziness on her part, and this now lay revealed by the chocolate.

"That will do."

She took the towel from me to finish off but, without thought, I took hold of the waistband.

"Let me get these into soak, you can borrow a pair of mine."

She refused, saying that she would be back in her own room in a trice, but I was already on my knees pulling them playfully, but insistently, down her legs.

In the next few seconds the frivolous mood evaporated as the aspect of our new juxtaposition made itself apparent. I looked up at her, unable to read her expression, and she remained awkwardly silent.

I wanted her but I had to do something to ease the tension and so, without taking my eyes from hers I leant forward, and licked upwards from the top of her mons to her navel following the residue of the dark sweet trail.

She whispered nervously.

"I can't do this..."

As she said it I felt an almost painful twinge of disappointment but, at the same time, I felt her body shiver with excitement. I trailed my tongue off to one side and, when she raised no further objection, I slowly followed the curve of her pubic bone downwards.

I am sure that I caught the faintest hint of her natural musk and I felt my own bodies' sympathetic response but I did not want to frighten her. I eased my way back to my starting point and felt the sharp prickles of young growth as I gently licked her clean.

She gave an almost unheard groan and placed an admonitory hand on the top of my head but she made no effort to push me away. Taking this as an encouragement I brought my hands to her hips and slowly eased her jogging pants all the way down her legs. When they were bunched at her ankles I moved my hands slowly upwards over the gentle curves of her calves and the tensed muscles at the back of her thighs until I was cradling the gentle weight of her cute derriere.

She gasped and then froze for a few seconds before looking down at me.

"I can't ...not with another girl."

I was unsure how to respond. Did she want to stop altogether or was she simply saying that she could not reciprocate?

She remained very still. Was I expected to get up, to apologize perhaps?

In the end my own need drove me to test her resolve. I started to lick once more but began to range ever lower so that my tongue swept over the tight, reluctant slit of her sex.