Game, Set, Match

And so he wrote...

4/8/19, 7:00 p.m.

That girl is driving me mad. I have never felt this passionately, this horny for someone so young before. She makes me feel like a teenager myself. Today I helped bandage her leg up after an injury on the tennis court. I kneeled there before her and I so badly wanted to look up that sweet, tight skirt of hers. What a lovely place it must be to nestle my head. I bet she's never experienced that before with a guy her own age. God, I'd love to show her with what I know, what I've learned over the years when it comes to sex. I wonder if she is a virgin. She doesn't act like one, but you never know. With girls, you never can tell. They're sex pistols wrapped in a mystery.

It seems like I haven't fucked in so long. It's only been maybe 4 or 5 weeks, but I'm going crazy just looking at that little blond and not being able to do anything with her. I know so very little about her -- does she have a boyfriend? Does she like dominant men? Is she shaved? What does her pussy look like? What does her whole body look like when she's naked? Showering? Masturbating? Does she think about me while she plays with herself? I know I think about her when I stroke my cock.

She makes me so horny. Earlier today, at practice, that's the hardest I've been in years, and that includes that last few times that I've gotten laid. The youngest woman I've ever had was four years my junior, but someone her age? Twenty years younger than myself? I've always wondered, but never experienced. God, what a thrill she must be. I bet I'd be peeling myself from the heavens after something like that.

And yet our physical contact has been limited. She stuck out her sweet tongue to me today so sweetly (holding it out for two dissolvable pills) and the pinkness of her tongue, the bubbles of her saliva, made me think of just one thing: a beautiful, long, slow blowjob from this teenage temptress.

She was teasing me without remorse. I tried to tease her back, but I'm afraid I fell short. Can you believe it? 38 years old and still unsure and terribly insecure around the opposite sex.

Oh well, that's the way it goes, I suppose.

Al put his pen and his notebook away and shut off the lamp that hung above his dining room table. Still in his bathrobe from his shower, he walked up the creaky old stairs to his bedroom and turned on the television as he lied in bed. But he couldn't concentrate on what was before him. He couldn't concentrate on anything but that sweet young woman on his tennis team. That innocent blond he craved.

He gave up trying to watch any kind of sitcom and popped one of his dirty films into the DVD player. The nasty images that played on the screen brought Angie in to full focus. He stroked his cock and fondled his balls till the desire in him could no longer be contained. His cum spurted forth, frothing, and drooling all over his thick hand, and he fell asleep beneath the covers at an early hour as images of Angie danced in his head.

Part Five

A few afternoons later, with Angie's shin all patched up and much less sore than it had been, the teenager was playing one hell of a game. Or so she thought.

Across the net from her was her worst enemy, Kelly. Oh, they hated each other's guts. Though it was just a practice match, Angie wanted so badly to kick her ass, to win, even if it would be just a small victory.

But, as anyone who has played tennis knows, it is a moody sport. The dispositions of the players can go up or down after a long point -- depending on who won it and who lost it. Angie lost two set points in a row, and in contrast to just a few moments before, her mood had turned foul. She was putting too much emphasis on her two-handed backhand and she sensed that Al was noticing the strain she was putting on herself that day. She was embarrassed how badly she was doing and started to get irritated with Al as he walked over to help her.

But this irritation, this aggressive nature that occasionally attacked her spirit dissipated as he approached her. The sight of him walking towards her was more than she could bear. He looked so gorgeous -- a real hunk of a man -- even when the sweat drenched his body and assaulted her senses.

"Here darling, I'll help you," he said softly.

Across the net Kelly held her racquet, her curled fists posed on her hips, waiting like the brat that she was. Impatient and rude as she always been. But Angie's image of Kelly soon melted away when Al stood behind her. His broad chest pressed against her petite back and she immediately felt his erection pressing into her lower back. His large arms encircled hers, and he gently, sweetly placed his brusque, rough hands on hers which were grasping the handle of her racquet. He brought the racquet back slowly, sexily instructing her.

"Like this, darling, just like this. Just let it slide back and whip it to your opponent. Use your wrists, and end with the racquet behind your right shoulder. Give it a try, sweetheart."

Angie, dazed by his rustic manliness, bounced a ball on the ground and gave it a healthy whack to her waiting opponent across the net.

"There you go, darling, just like that. More power."

Al stood back and watched the young woman in all her fieriness. It was coming out of her, flowing out of her now. He stopped her for a moment, giving her further instruction, pointing to something at the net, and leaning close to her ear, encouraging her quietly -- so in control, in such a masculine way.

Al and Angie started to draw attention from all the girls from the team. They could now see the attraction of the unlikely twosome. It was obvious to a blind man. Most of the girls abandoned their matches to watch them and how they softly communicated with one another. They were aware that they were being watched, how inappropriate it all looked, but at that point they didn't care. A few of the girls let out a few howls of appreciation.

Al, knowing he may lose his job if anyone found out of his attraction, backed off of Angie, and play was resumed between the coach and the players.

5:30 rolled around too soon and it was the end of practice for the day. Al and Angie stood on the court talking to one another. He hadn't asked to see her after practice, nor she with him, but it was almost as if they both felt like they had been drawn together that particular afternoon. No words were needed. At the end of the day, they had come together and started talking, quietly, sweetly with one another, as the other girls made their way to the showers and locker rooms, swinging their racquets and gossiping like crazy.

The two of them stood alone on the court together. Clumsily, Angie still held her racquet at her side. Out of sight of the other girls, they relished the privacy they had together for the first time in their lives. Al took her racquet and dropped it onto the court. For the first time they held hands, their fingers intertwining with one another's, playing with each other, teasing each other gently, talking softly and laughing into one another's open, smiling mouths.

"You are so pretty, Angie," he said to her in his deep voice. His hands sweetly caressed the sides of her arms and made their way up her face, soft and small with only a hint of acne. "Kiss me," he whispered. "Kiss me, baby."

He drew her closer and their lips locked, shyly at first with their lips closed. She boldly took her tongue -- that sweet tongue he loved so much -- and pried his mouth open without much effort. Their kisses became more and more passionate, more heated as their arms roamed with very little concern for who may or may not be watching.

"Oh Al," she whispered in between kisses, and she giggled. He laughed, full of pure enjoyment at kissing this girl, a barely legal, dangerous teenager.

Her small hands snaked their way up his broad chest and clutched at his ears -- those cute, oddly-shaped ears. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, those wonderfully sexy shoulders he had with the slight hunch to them. God, what a sexy man, she thought to herself.

But their ecstasy was rudely interrupted by Angie's friend Rachel. Rachel sat in her car on the street, parked and waiting for her friend to finish so she could drive her home.

"Hey, Hot Lips!" She yelled. "Are you finished? You told me to drive you home!"

In a hushed and hurried goodbye, Angie grabbed her racquet and ran to meet her best friend on the team. Before she hopped into her girlfriend's car, she stood and turned to Al. She waved at him with her winning smile, and his heart sank into his stomach where a rush of butterflies were already fluttering. He grinned and waved backed to her, kindly, gentlemanly, almost in contrast to the sexy, naughty moment they had just shared.

This is the life, he thought to himself.

He started to pack up his belongings off the court, along with the odds and ends the girls had left behind. He couldn't wait to see her again, and he knew she felt the same way about him. She had said it all in her kiss.

Part Six

That Friday's tennis practice seemed to go so slowly. Al didn't pay any special attention to Angie like she thought he would. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if she had done something to turn him off. It was only earlier in that week that they had shared that passionate kiss that had taken her breath away. Was it a joke or just a fluke? Had she been played for a fool? She couldn't say that she was angry, maybe just a little put out or upset by his lack of attention on her that day. Or, perhaps, it was her insecurities that were bubbling to the surface.

At the end of the practice, he gently called her name, and she felt her heart flutter with excitement. She gathered up her racquets and things and slung her bag over her shoulder and smiled up at him, his tall frame towering over her.

"Hey Al," she said, not wanting to betray her feelings of frustration within her.

"Hi Angie. Listen, I know we didn't get much chance to talk today, but I was wondering if you'd like to...to come over to my house tomorrow night? After practice?" he asked sweetly, almost shyly.

"You mean, like a date-date?" she asked him, wishing to draw out his embarrassment even further. This was now his punishment. She grinned.

An occasional girl would walk by the two of them, heading for their cars or the showers, looking to get away from the daily headaches that school days often held.

"I'd love to, Al," she said, with enthusiasm that she could not and did not want to hide.

His face beamed with that wonderful smile of his. "Well, that sounds great. After practice we can take my car over to my place and get to know one another. Does that sound alright?"

"It sounds great," she said, balancing her bag on her shoulder. "Oh, but shouldn't I have your number as well? In case I need to cancel?"

He shook his head. "No, you won't cancel."

His confidence made her body unhinge itself and she laughed. "You're right, I won't."

They stood there for a silent moment, admiring each other when Rachel startled her out of her thoughts. Her hand had brushed along Angie's back as she passed. "Hey man, let's go out to eat. I'm counting on a big plate of French fries."

Angie went with the current of her best friend and yelled out to Al as she walked away, "I'll see you then!"

He waved to her, and the hot date was set.

Part Seven

That evening in bed, it occurred to Angie that this time tomorrow, she may be in bed with Al. The thought excited her to no end. Her pussy softened and moistened to these thoughts. As her hand trailed down her tummy to her sweet spot, she thought of him.

She thought of the two of them in the hallway at school where her locker was, the school abandoned, and the two of them making out, her in a parochial school outfit, his body large and hovering over her as they necked. Her swaying back pressed up against the door of her locker, his large and excited erection pressing up against her stomach, such a beautifully depraved picture: a middle-aged man with his hands all over one of his players, one so young, and one approaching forty, the differences and contrasts between the two so obviously wrought with impossibilities that the sin had to be accomplished.

His hands finding themselves beneath her short, pleated skirt, her breasts so inappropriately displayed for a parochial schoolgirl. And all her body, all of her teenaged body, was his. It would be his in no time. This she knew.

Both in her fantasy and in real life she was willing to give her heart, her mind, and her body over to this man she had known only a few short weeks, and she came twice into her waiting palm with a sweetness to her juices that only the young know. She had fingerfucked and frigged her body into a frenzy from which there was no return.

After the orgasms -- the best orgasms of her life -- had hit her like a lightning bolt, she collected a bit of juice left in her pussy and put it up to her lips. Oh my, she tasted good, and she knew her juices lied beneath her naked bottom, staining the sheets. No matter. It would dry by morning. And she fell asleep in such a state of bliss that she wished her schoolgirl dream had come true.

"It will, baby. It will," she assured herself, as she once more stroked her skin to sleep.

Part Eight

The next afternoon, a Saturday afternoon, Angie found herself dancing around the house in her underwear, fixing a small lunch for herself: a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a tall glass of orange juice. Her mother and stepfather had gone out shopping (which her stepfather had repeatedly complained about), and she enjoyed everything about that day: the fact that she had the place to herself, the fact that she would see Al at practice, and, of course, the fact that the two had a hot date planned for that evening. The phone rang and she picked it up, figuring it was probably Rachel asking if she needed a ride to practice.

"Hello?" Angie said in a happy sing-song voice.

"Well, hello there," a man's voice answered. "How are you, darling?"

Al was the only one who referred to her as "darling." She grinned brightly, her youthful face beaming with enthusiasm. "Hello Al. What's going on? And how did you get my number?"

"I got it from the form you filled out when you joined the team," he said. She could hear the impish grin over the phone. "And, darling, I'm calling off practice today."

"Really? You are? How come?"

"Baby, I have to be honest: I just want to see you. I can't take another practice of you taunting and teasing me the way you have. Will you come over to my house? Immediately?"

She was overwhelmed by the emotions that she heard in his sentences. She could tell he was excited, maybe a bit nervous, but mischievously triumphant in his new romantic interest.

"Well, it'll take me about an hour to get ready," she said. "Where do you live?"

"I live at 7122 Quigley Avenue."

They anxiously and sweetly said their goodbyes and hung up. Over the next hour or so Angie took the time to get ready: she showered, put her hair up in hot curlers, applied a bit of make-up, and slipped on a tight, flowery spring dress that accentuated the slight curves of her small figure. It was a white, low-cut dress sprinkled with pink, blue, and yellow flowers. She removed the curlers and brushed out the waves, pinning back the sides with pins. In the shower she had made sure to shave herself clean from her ankle way up to her armpits. She was wet and pink and ready to fly.

She knew by the sound of his voice that he was eager to fuck. And this only encouraged her. With as much work as she was putting into her appearance, she knew she would be mussed and naked before long.

She took a public bus to his neighborhood and wound up on his doorstep after a short stroll. It was two o'clock in the afternoon, and her walk was brisk and bouncy; it was a day for lovemaking. The sun was shining brightly, the rays gleaming and ricocheting off her tight, shining skin.

Angie rang the doorbell and waited.

Part Nine

Al opened the door. He looked so handsome. He was dressed in jeans with a white button-up shirt tucked into his waistband, wearing a brown belt. His dark hair was combed neatly back away from his face, and he greeted her with a wide, mischievous grin. He stood back from the open door, allowing her entry.

"Hello darling, how have you been? You look lovely."

"Thanks, you look gorgeous too. I'm great, how have you been?"

She tried to look occupied with the décor of the house, but she was not at all distracted: she knew he was looking in her direction, and she stood there, almost posing, leaning backwards against the mantle, and purposely dropping the small handbag she had brought with her. Her body was open and inviting, waiting for him to make the first move.

With his big, gentle hands, he took her face and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. She was not at all caught off guard. She had teased him wordlessly with her provocative dress and stance. This was the time to have one another.

"Oh Al," she sighed into his neck.

"What? What is it, darling?" he said, kissing the bare skin of her ear and then the nape of her neck. "Tell me what you're thinking."

She felt his hardness pressed up against the thin fabric clinging to her belly. Angie -- little Angie -- could tell he was a big boy alright. Her panties moistened at an alarming rate; she could feel the folds of her skin rubbing against one another, her pussy wet with desire, the small, tight lips teasing one another as she moved from side to side within the confines of her silk panties.

Al began to slip her dress off. He unzipped the zipper in the back and slid the tight dress down her young body, taking off her bra and pink panties with it. He stood back and admired her nakedness, her clothes in a pool around her feet.

"Oh darling," he moaned. "You're so lovely. I love your naked body. Do you know how beautiful you are, sweetheart?"

She giggled and smiled up at him. "Yes, I know." She began to unbutton his shirt, kissing each inch of his chest that exposed itself as she undressed him. His chest was slightly hairy, the dark pubic hair springing out and then bouncing back with each of her friendly tugs and kisses.

"Oh darling, do you like my chest? Do you like a man's hairy chest?"

"Mmm hmm," she sighed as she unbuttoned his shirt all the way and gently pulled it out of his jeans.

He did a quick intake of breath as she kissed and licked her way down to his navel. With the fingers of his big hands, he caressed her blond hair. His cock was raging now. This teenage tart was going to go down on him and he reveled in this fact. His dream was coming true.

Angie knelt on her knobby knees, those knees he loved so much. Her hands began slowly and delicately to undo his belt. Little Angie's eyes looked up at him, almost in slow-motion, and he nearly lost his hot load right then. He was shocked at how quickly they had moved in their sexual activity, but she seemed to want it just as much as he did.

She finished unlatching his belt and pulled his jeans down to his knees. His big cock -- a good eight inches or so, the biggest she'd ever seen -- sprung forth in a forest of dark pubic hair. He was natural and he was beautiful. Even his cock was a tan, brown color. It was leaking a steady drip of precum. His oozing desire made her hungry and, without much thought, she flicked her delicate pink tongue out and licked up his wetness.

"Oh fuck," he cursed, his fingers intertwined in her hair. "Oh baby, do you like the taste of precum?"

"Oh yes, I love it." She held the base of his shaft and began to lick his cock up and down like a lollipop. Her bright, blue eyes looked up at him from the floor. "Do you like me to lick you like this, baby?" she teased.