Tennis Lessons

I was not liking Chuck's constant obsession with sex nor his crass descriptions. I paused and considered turning on my heels and getting out of there. I was pretty sure that I could express my concerns strongly enough to Gary that he would condone my dropping out of tennis lessons. But then I thought that my husband might insist that I had to do one or the other. If so, golf lessons with Ed might be worse than tennis lessons, that is if lecher Chuck is to be believed.

"Can you give me a minute?" I asked and Chuck nodded, withdrawing to give me a moment on the court on my own. He went around the net to talk quietly to his son. I guessed that I might be the topic of their conversation.

I wrestled with making a decision on whether to drop the tennis lessons. I wouldn't miss it, but I knew that Gary would be very disappointed in me. He had even said not to give it away after only one lesson. I resolved to try a bit harder. "Okay Chuck," I called to him, "let's try and make this work."

The club tennis pro came back around the net, approaching me. I continued, "But now that you know how I feel, can you just try and respect me and my feelings? I love my husband and I am not interested in having a little bit on the side ... or whatever you call it these days."

"You got it babe, I'll be on my best behaviour and we'll make a good tennis player out of you yet."

I smiled at him for the first time.

"That's better, love your smile," he said, "you should smile a lot more ... you're a very beautiful woman, you know."

"No I don't know that," I retorted.

"Well you should, because you are. Now let's see if I can get my hard-on to go down and I'll set about teaching you to play tennis."

My smile turned into a glare, "See what I mean, you can't help yourself. Just get it into your head that I am not in the least interested in your erections."

Ignoring my glare, he told me defiantly, "Yeah, but it's only early days. I told you I like challenges."

I resumed my position on the court and waited expectantly for Mark to start firing balls out of the machine again. Undaunted by my previous comments, Chuck moved in behind me again. However, this time I knew what to expect and I forced myself not to come across too prim and proper. After all, it was only a tennis lesson out in the middle of a very public court. There was no opening in my bike pants for him to force that hard-on through. I convinced myself that I had complete control of the situation.

But as I felt that bulge in his shorts push itself up against one of my lycra-covered arse cheeks, I did for the first time wonder if that would always be the case. I couldn't see why not! When I first became interested in boys, and right up until Gary swept me off my feet, I had seen a lot of Chuck's type. He fitted such a pattern ... considered himself something of a jock, super confident that he could have any woman that crossed his path.

Gary was the complete opposite of Chuck. Quiet, reserved, very intelligent and quite intellectual. An unkind person might categorise him as a nerd, but I would rather label that as studious. None of that stopped him from being very loving and he had certainly kept me satisfied and content for all these years. I might have wondered from time to time what other guys would be like, but I doubt that I had ever contemplated doing anything that might jeopardise our good marriage. Chuck was certainly not the type that you would want to risk everything over.

The bulge in front of his pelvis that continued to brush against my arse was definitely bigger now than it had been when he had made that first tentative contact that I had tried desperately to avoid. Nevertheless, I had laid out what I considered were now the ground rules and we continued the lesson with me conscious that his erection was constantly there and he was suitably put in his place. At least that's the way I looked at it.

Chuck continued to use his technique of fitting the front of his body to the back of mine whenever he wanted to demonstrate the way that I should swing the racquet or to volley ... and when he taught me the differences of playing a backhand shot.

We eventually got through the hour. I had worked up quite a sweat and the lycra bike pants felt like they were sticking to me. I was eager to get them off but I hadn't brought a change of clothes, so I would have to wait until I got home to shower.

Chuck and I returned to his little shop. "Now Sandy, can I interest you in some of our range of tennis dresses and skirts. I guess those sneakers are okay, but you might prefer tennis shoes. Then there's the matter of a racquet for you."

"Yes, I guess I will need all of that stuff, but I might leave that until I come next time. I really do have to get away quickly now."

"Can I book you in for your next lesson?"

"Err ... yes, I guess so," I was hesitating, several times through this first lesson I had contemplated walking out on the deal. But at least, after I had told him that his approach didn't get to me, he did mellow, so I might give him another chance. "Chuck, Thursday's good for me, what time have you got?"

"Only the afternoon on Thursday, say about 2, is that alright with you?"

"Yeah, I can do that," I told him and I quickly departed. I began to feel better when I was away on my own once more. He had an intimidating presence about him and it seemed like he enjoyed getting into my space.

I got back to my car and sat down behind the wheel. My bike pants felt clammy and I lifted up the loose frilly skirt that I had used as a modesty garment over them. I looked down at my crotch and thighs, fortunately the pants were black because they were quite wet between the tops of my thighs. I had assumed that it was sweat, but when I touched my fingers to my crotch, it struck me that it could be my own feminine juices leaking out of me. What would have caused that to happen in the middle of a tennis lesson? Could it actually have been the unwanted contact of Chuck's erection against my arse?

I sat in my car seat with my legs spread and my fingers swiping at the dampness within my crotch. It actually became a slight rubbing of my fingers over my crotch because they felt nice at this time. A tapping on my car window startled me back to reality. I looked up and there was Chuck's face at the window, right alongside me. Embarrassed to be caught by Chuck with my fingers at my crotch, my face flushed but it seemed to take ages before I retrieved my fingers and pressed the button to lower the window. "What, what is it?" I gasped in annoyance as I attempted to recover my dignity.

"You left your handbag on the counter," Chuck told me as he handed it to me through the car window with a knowing grin that indicated how he interpreted the scene he had just come across. I expect that he would think that I had been using my fingers to seek relief from the arousal I must have felt at having been so near to him. I sat there for awhile pondering how I could possibly return for more lessons. Chapter Two

Gary and I had become very honest with each other over 18 years of marriage. We told each other everything, neither had any reason to hold anything back. I recall him telling me when there was a particular PA at work who came on to him. That's how honest we were with each other. He would come home nightly during that period and relate the latest tale of how she flaunted herself to him or dropped tempting implications. Nothing ever came of that and eventually the young woman moved on.

Similarly, a few of Gary's less close and loyal friends would occasionally hit on me, usually at a party we might attend. I would always tell Gary afterward and we would have a great chuckle over their feeble attempts. Gary and I were just that sort of couple, we loved each other and saw nothing in anyone else to tempt us from the path.

For that reason, I cannot to this day fathom why when Gary came home that night and asked, "Honey, how did your first tennis lesson go?" my answer did not seem to come from the thoughts that summed up the day.

Without having pre-considered my answer, I just said, "Oh not bad darling, by the end of the hour, I was at least hitting the ball back over the net most of the time."

Gary laughed, "That's good because isn't that the objective of the game?"

"Yes it is! Oh by the way, I might have to give the credit card a bit of a bash, I need to wear the right clothes to play tennis, and of course I'll need a racquet."

"You've got the new card the company gave us, haven't you? Use that because anything to do with the country club is a business expense. So how was the pro, did you get on well with him?"

Okay, now this was my chance, I would have expected me to say, 'He pissed me off actually, bit on himself, kept making suggestive comments, you know, sexual ones and he rubbed his cock up against my arse, it felt at least half erect. I can tell you I wasn't happy with him, thought of complaining to the club about him.'

Yes, that's what I would have said in all the 18 years of our marriage ... surely! But I surprised even myself when these words came out of my mouth, "He's very good at what he does, a bit cocky, but I guess that goes with the territory. He says I'll need about 10 lessons until I'm at the point where I could play against other club members' wives and not embarrass you."

So where did that come from? True, the words came out of my mouth, but they weren't words I would have used a few hours ago, like when I was driving home from the club feeling humiliated that Chuck had seen me with my fingers at my crotch. Especially too given the manner in which he had talked to me and the suggestive body contact with his erection rubbing up against my arse.

So what had changed during the afternoon as I reflected on my day? Well, I guess for a start, I came home, rolled down my bike pants and stepped into the shower. And while the warm water cascaded down over my body, my fingers went to my naturally already-wet clitoris and brought myself to a shuddering orgasm that left me standing shakily in the shower stall on very wobbly legs.

Getting myself off was not a regular occurrence for me, maybe a couple of times a year. I didn't normally feel the need because Gary was quite an attentive husband and usually managed to make me orgasm during sex. So was it that secret sexual encounter under the shower that caused me to tell my husband a pasteurised homogenised version of how my tennis lesson had gone?

Thursday came and I even found myself quite excited at the prospect of seeing Chuck and having my second lesson. I still couldn't understand myself. This man was the type that I had always avoided, the type that I would send packing when they had tried to hit on me when I was single.

After I showered, this time without the additional benefits, I put on a bra and panties that were among my slinkiest lingerie, not the type that one might normally wear for sport, but I didn't think of that at the time. I ran my hands over my arse, feeling the silky touch of the material on my arse cheeks. Then I went through most of the slacks in my wardrobe trying to find a pair that replicated that silky feel when they were over my sexy panties.

None did, so I got to the club 15 minutes before my lesson and went straight to the pro shop. Chuck was behind the counter eating lunch. "Oh hi Sandy, you're early."

"Yes I know, on purpose. I couldn't find anything appropriate in my wardrobe that said tennis gear, so I figured I could buy a dress to wear from today on."

Chuck's smile broadened, "Great, let's find you something that compliments your beauty."

I blushed, "Oh don't say that, you'll embarrass me."

"No, it's true, you are a very beautiful woman. Now, over here we should have something that will work for you. I'm thinking pink or sky blue."

I picked out a sky blue dress that really appealed to me. "Is there a change room here?"

"Err, not actually, we generally use the back of the stock room behind the curtain, if you don't mind."

Chuck pulled the curtain aside and led me back into a room no bigger than the tiny shop out front. There were boxes of stock piled high, but back behind them there was a couch and a mirror on the wall beside it. "Here you go!"

I paused beside the couch and waited for Chuck to retreat back into the shop. For a moment, it looked like Chuck intended to stay while I stripped down to my sexy panties and bra to try on the dress, but eventually he realised that I wouldn't start with him there. I looked around me at the cluttered little room and hoped that he didn't have any hidden camera set up. I don't know why that thought came to me, maybe just that he kind of oozed sleaze.

I dropped my slacks and lifted my blouse over my head and stood a moment or two to admire my still shapely body, wearing the silky lingerie, in the mirror. I might be 40, I thought, but I can still turn a few male heads. I even half turned so I could check out my arse in the mirror. Then I began to wonder about my selection of lingerie for my second lesson. It was hardly appropriate to wear under a tennis dress that I was about to try on. I mean, the dress would barely cover my crotch. I had seen enough snippets of tennis on TV to know that the dresses flew up when the women played and the viewer could often see their panties.

Continuing to check myself out, I became concerned that I was coming on a bit strong. Looking in the mirror, I could see that from behind, my silky panties were transparent enough for the indentation between my arse cheeks to show through as a dark line. And from the front, the silky material had caught in the lips of my pussy. Gary had once told me what they called that ... oh yes, a camel toe.

Even the material of the bra that I wore was see-through and I could easily make out my stiffened nipples. Good God, why were they aroused? Oh well, at least the top of the tennis dress I had picked was not see-through.

I put the dress on and liked it immediately. I wore it back out into the shop, "Yes, this is good, I'll take it."

"Great!" said Chuck and then pointed to a chair, "I've picked out some tennis shoes and a pair of socks, you might want to try them on."

I sat down and began to remove my sneakers. Then, just like you would expect to see in any shoe shop, Chuck dropped to his knees directly in front of me and began to prepare the new shoes for me to slip my feet into. 'This could be a bit embarrassing,' I thought, 'in this short dress, any movement of my legs as I shift my feet in and out of the shoes will reveal my silky panties and the camel toe.'

I purposely locked my eyes onto his, watching every movement of his eyes, silently telling him that I would know if he dared to steal a peek between my thighs. But I had disregarded how sexually forward this man was, he had no shame, he was blatantly sexual and didn't care if his target woman knew that.

Chuck pulled the laces back until there was an easy opening for me to slip my right foot into the right shoe. Then he lifted my leg up high and placed the foot in the shoe on his left shoulder. "There you go," he said, "you can tie the laces yourself, make them as tight or loose as you need for comfort."

His move had taken me by surprise because by placing my foot on his shoulder, my bent knee was raised up higher than his eye level and he could easily see clearly in between my parted legs ... one thigh flat on the chair but the other raised at an angle. What's more, it didn't matter that I had locked my eyes on his, watching every move they made, because his eyes were brazenly staring directly at my crotch. There was no pretence on his part of stealing furtive glances as most guys might do, hoping that I wouldn't notice. I did think of dropping my hand down to cover my crotch but then because he wanted me to tie my own laces, I needed both hands free for that.

My second tennis lesson hadn't even started yet and again, I was feeling sexually assaulted, just like on that first day when he rubbed his cock against my arse cheeks while standing tightly behind me, allegedly to instruct me in how to hit the ball.

As I began to tighten and then tie the laces, I watched his eyes staring intently into my crotch where I was covered -- if you could call it that -- by panties so flimsy that he must surely be able to make out the line of my pussy lips. I had earlier noted the camel toe when I looked in the mirror. He would be ale to see that, make out the outline of those lips down there. Oh God, what had I been thinking to wear lingerie like that to a tennis lesson. What sort of message did it send him? Obviously the wrong message, I noted, as my eyes dropped and saw the bulge in his shorts as he knelt on the floor in front of me. Had I done that, did I cause his erection by what he could see or was he already horny before I arrived?

I finished tying the laces on one of my new tennis shoes and said, "Done!" Chuck lifted the foot off his shoulder but then raised the other to the other shoulder, only momentarily looking up at me before his eyes zeroed in once more on my revealing crotch. I tightened and tied those laces as quickly as I could and put my raised foot back flat on the floor, ending his side-show.

"How do they feel?" he asked.

I stood up and walked around a little, "They're good, I think you picked the size in one."

"I get pretty good at it after a while," he said, "working out the right sizes of a woman, that is. You might have thought that I meant the other thing, I've always been good at that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, annoyed that he was becoming sexually confronting again, given my harsh words to him the other day.

"I think you do, you know what it's all about ... it's a game with women, particularly in a wealthy country club like this."

"It's not a game with me, the only game I am interested in is playing tennis."

He gave me a long lingering look that scared me. The way he looked at me, I thought for a moment he was going to whisk me back through the curtain, back to that couch in the stock room. He seemed to have a lustful look in his eyes.

Instead, he picked up two racquets, "Well then, we better get to it then," and he headed out the door of the shop, "Come on, I need to teach you some more stuff."

I lingered behind for a moment. When I was sure that he had left and I was on my own, I slipped one hand down under the tennis dress and swiped my fingers into that camel toe crease in my panties. Sure enough, my worst fears were realised, they were quite wet, it could only be from my juices again. How embarrassing was that? When he stared at my crotch, he could probably see the dampness, but what's worse, his face was so close down there that he might have smelt the aroma of sex around me. I held my own fingers up under my nose and sure enough, I could smell me now.

We had another full hour on the court. Thankfully, he didn't stand up close behind me this time. He was across the net from me and we actually played some tennis, hitting it back and forth although not keeping score. He made me run around more than the first day by not always hitting back to where I stood. I guessed that he might be doing that so that I would run and stretch for the ball and my dress would fly up, revealing those silky panties.

When the hour was over, I collapsed into a courtside chair. "I thought you were fit," Chuck said, "I mean, you work out don't you?"

"Yes I do, and I thought I was fit too, but you ran me ragged out there. Oh God, I'm bushed."

"Better get some fluids into you," he suggested, but then couldn't help himself from turning his remark into something crass, "I can think of some fluid I'd like to get into you, but we better just settle on water for now."