Training Technique

I lay there willing her to continue and then I felt her finger twist almost imperceptibly. As it did a second jolt of pleasure stiffened my body forming my mouth into a rictus and she brought herself lower.

Her sex was pressed gently to my lips and a sharp tang invaded my mouth. This was not what I wanted, far from it, but her finger seemed to be vibrating inside of me and I found myself panting. I was being held on the verge of an incredible orgasm but she refused to take me over the edge.

In the heat and wetness between her enclosing thighs I whimpered pathetically.

"Please...please..."

As my mouth formed the words my lips moved against her sex and she mirrored the stimulation with her finger. Her meaning was clear but I could not bring myself to do it. The impasse lasted a few seconds and then she withdrew her finger just the tiniest fraction.

I had no choice, I had to surrender; her touch held the promise of a pleasure I had never known, a pleasure I could not forego.

With reluctance I put out my tongue and touched it to the firmness of her sex. The first taste was unexpected, slightly salty, not altogether unpleasant but, as I started to lap at her, in the way I enjoyed having it done to me, it became richer, exciting more of my taste buds.

It obviously met with her approval because her finger found the spot once more and I was quickly taken back to the edge

Now that I had broken the taboo I found it easier. Her sex began to open allowing me to discover the petals of her labia and, as they bloomed, so her flow increased.

I do not know when I reached the moment of transition, it may well have been in response to her irresistible palpation of my sex, but at some point I drove my tongue deep inside her. My initial reluctance had become a craving as I tried to fill my mouth with her essence.

I had tasted myself on my fingers but it was as nothing to this. Her taste was both subtle and complex, exciting my tongue and firing neurons of pleasure deep inside.

For a few seconds my own gratification was forgotten but she rewarded this new evidence of enthusiasm with another purposeful movement of her finger.

I thought that I had reached orgasm but I realized, with astonishment, that she had simply taken me to a higher plateau that, unbelievably, there was more to come.

At that moment I would have done anything for her. I opened my mouth wide and formed a seal around her sex , with my tongue buried deep, and then I began to suck. My technique may have left much to be desired but this physical declaration of my devotion was obviously to her liking.

With a final curling of her finger the air rushed from my lungs as I melted into the be all and end all of climaxes. I found myself gasping for breath but she remained seated on my face as she surrendered herself to a far more controlled orgasm. She was pulsing moisture into my mouth in synch with my attempts to breathe and my tongue was being almost painfully constricted.

At the same time as I was racked with pleasure beyond my experience it felt as if I were drowning but even in this there was some distorted fulfillment.

At the zenith I think I may even have blacked out for a second or two because, as my body jerked with a few final aftershocks, I found Tamiko standing beside me. She favoured my with an inscrutable smile before she blew out the candle and left me alone.

Chapter 2

I went back to my room and could not believe the mess I was in. My hair was damp with perspiration and my face red; fortunately, I had not bothered with make-up.

I took another shower but even after some minutes under the warm jets I still felt as if I reeked of Tamiko. I stood there and, as so often, when I get agitated, I talked to myself and this time the question was "what the hell was I thinking of?"

Thoughts crowded in on one another. Had she set out to seduce me or had I given some unwitting signal? Had she done this with any of the others?

One thing I was absolutely clear on was the fact that it would not happen again.

I had been scheduled to spend the whole day in the treatment room but there was no way in the world that I was going back that afternoon. Instead, I walked out of the complex and picked up the number nineteen bus which ran down to the deer park. There had been a leaflet advertising the attraction in the reception area but, fortunately, there were very few day trippers around. I was able to wander the grounds, keeping myself to myself, and try and put my thoughts in order.

I returned in time for the early evening meal with the other girls, each of us on a slightly different regimented diet, and then I accepted an offer to join them in town. Larina drove and, as alcohol was expressly forbidden, we headed for a coffee shop in the old quarter.

As we laughed together we were the centre of a lot of male attention. I had grown used to it over the past two years and had learned to ignore it but, that night, I guess I was seeking some form of reassurance. A couple of young, clean-cut, Danish lads kept smiling in my direction and I did nothing to put them off.

I now knew that my next door neighbour at the complex was Larina and that she, at least, had sneaked in a male companion, so I was just a little put out when she told me to stop flirting and reminded me of Agnetha's strict rules.

That night I could not sleep. Each time I closed my eyes I was confronted with yet another disturbing image of Tamiko. I knew that I ought to be disgusted with myself and I could not get over the way in which she had manipulated me so easily.

The following morning I got up to find that a revised schedule had been pushed under the door. I was to report to the gym after breakfast and then to Agnetha in the afternoon.

For the best part of three hours I was put through my paces and it quickly became apparent that the emphasis was to be on cardio-vascular work with only very limited weight training. During the course of the morning I surprised myself with my self analysis of my different muscle groups and the way they flexed and contracted; I was far more aware of my limits and I enjoyed exploring the boundaries

After the session I was ready for a shower but I was caught by surprise when I was told to report to Tamiko. At the mention of her name I had a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and the buzz I had got from the gym work instantly dissipated.

In the event she was totally businesslike. Dressed, as usual, in a crisp white overall she was a model of brisk efficiency and she warmed me down as I had seen her do to the other girls. No reference was made to the previous day but I found myself on edge throughout the session wondering if, and when, her hand might go astray.

After lunch I reported to Agnetha's office. She had two chrome and leather armchairs set up facing one another by the window and she told me to be seated. She sat opposite me with a clipboard on her knee.

"This afternoon we are going to cover the rudiments of sports psychology. We are going to talk about self motivation and how we give ourselves an edge over our opponents. Now, all you are required to do is listen, but, whilst you do so, I do not want you to take your eyes off of my legs."

I looked up at her in surprise.

"Not my face. My legs"

I immediately cast my eyes downward. She was wearing sports kit and her short white skirt meant that there was a lot of her legs to be seen.

"I watched a video of you losing in the Malaysian Open. Tonight, I want you to watch it too"

It was not a match I was proud of. I had lost to a ranked, but beatable, opponent. John and I had studied the video to try and spot the flaws in my game but his analysis had proved inconclusive.

"I want you to notice, particularly, how your opponent keeps looking at your left leg."

Now that she had said it I did remember it. At first I thought that the girl was checking me out, there are always a few lesbians to be found on the circuit, but she kept looking throughout the game. At the finish I wondered if I was carrying my leg awkwardly.

"It's a trick a lot of the Far Eastern girls are using right now. It makes you think that they have spotted a weakness. You end up compensating for a problem that does not exist."

For the next hour she expounded on what might traditionally be called "gamesmanship" and throughout that time I kept my eyes on her legs. I knew that, on retirement, she had, for a short while, modeled for a Danish lingerie company and it was clear to see why. Even now her legs were enviable; long, well shaped and not over muscled.

From time to time she crossed them, rearranging her clipboard on her knee and at least once I found myself looking a little higher than was absolutely necessary. As I did so I formed a fleeting image of Agnetha and Tamiko together and I felt a warm, but embarrassing, tingling.

With the session over I watched the video and found she was absolutely right. I felt such an idiot to have been influenced in this way.

The next day followed the same routine. I did three hours in the gym followed by a massage but there was something subtly different about it. It was nothing I could pin down but when Tamiko had finished with me I felt a heightened sense of tension.

I still felt slightly odd as I entered Agnetha's office. She was waiting with the chairs set up as they had been the day before and I sat without being asked.

"Today, we are going to talk about court commands. During our training sessions I want you to hear my voice and do what I tell you without thinking. Later, we will work on your inner voice. You play an instinctive game and that serves you well, it surprises opponents, but to be the best you need to think through every single shot and the way to do that is to hear that voice."

"Okay, whilst I talk I want you to keep your eyes on my shoulder."

This all sounded slightly offbeat to me and I was a little put out because I thought she had already proved her point about staring at an opponent's limb. Nevertheless I did as she asked. The problem was that she had chosen to wear a scoop necked vest top and she was obviously not wearing a bra. Every time I tried to fix my gaze I felt my eyes slipping towards her breasts.

She was well endowed and my own breasts were modest by comparison. Sports bras were all well and good but I found myself wondering if she found it a disadvantage on court.

"Do you find them fascinating?"

For a few seconds I had drifted away and lost what she was saying and now she was angry.

"Would you like a better look?"

She lifted her top to reveal a pair of heavy gourds crowned with perfectly round, chocolate brown, nipples. I should have looked away, apologized, but I simply stared. They were beautiful, in a purely aesthetic sense, but that was no excuse.

She got up suddenly from her seat, her breasts still revealed, and a face like thunder.

"What exactly are you here for? Have you come to learn or have you been hanging around in the showers with your young friends for too long? Were you trying to find out what a real woman's body looks like? Is that it?

She moved closer to me and her tirade became almost concussive.

"Well take a look and then perhaps we can get on!"

She ripped away the velcro fastening of her sports skirt and allowed it to pool at her feet. Beneath it she was wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties which struggled to contain her sex.

She had the most prominent mound I had ever see and it was covered with a luxuriant growth of black curls. I had been exposed to naked bodies throughout my sporting career and the vogue, amongst players, was for total depilation with a few going for a token fringe but this was beyond my experience.

It had a feral quality, a sense that this was how nature intended things to be, and it seemed so right. Only days before I had blanched at the prospect of touching Tamiko but now I felt an unnatural attraction, a stirring deep inside of me. Without conscious thought my tongue moved in my mouth seeking out the phantom of a forbidden taste.

I tried to shift my gaze but, as I did so, she moved very slightly. It was a tiny transition but it gave her posture a certain arrogance. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to nuzzle up against her, to feel her warmth, to take in her scent., but she put her hand behind my head and pulled it back slightly.

She looked me directly in the eyes.

"You little slut."

And then she was gone. She picked up her skirt and refastened it before taking her seat as if nothing untoward had taken place.

"Now, where were we?"

For the remainder of the session I stared mutely at her shoulder as she elaborated on the court commands that she would be using. My heart rate was raised and my skin felt clammy and it was all I could do to avoid fidgeting in my seat. Fortunately, she did not keep me for very much longer before dismissing me for the day and I left the room almost in a daze. I felt chagrined but also an embarrassing sense of arousal.

I was still cursing myself under my breath as I walked into my room and I was startled to find Tamiko sitting in the single arm chair - she was wearing the same blue silk kimono.

"Lock the door."

I flared to anger and told her to leave, or perhaps that was another me, because I found myself turning the key and my pulse pounded in my temples as I slowly turned from the door to face her.

She was sitting with her legs crossed, her fingers steepled together under her chin, with a knowing smile on her face.

I remained still, unsure what to do, and my discomfort seemed to amuse her. She waited some seconds before she slowly uncrossed her legs allowing the kimono to slip open with a gentle hiss of silk.

My stomach lurched as I recalled the sensual skill of her fingers and I was all too aware of the dampness between my legs. The frisson that I had felt whilst ensconced with Agnetha was boiling up once more and I could see, in Tamiko's eyes, that I had no secrets.

I could not look her in the face and my eyes dropped to her breasts which were still just hidden by the folds of her gown. At this, she turned slightly allowing the briefest glimpse of a conical pink nipple before she leisurely lifted one leg and draped it over the arm of the chair.

I wanted to close my eyes in denial but they were drawn, almost hypnotically, downwards to where her sex glistened. Even as I watched the firm mound seemed to swell allowing the pink inner lips to yawn into awakening.

I swallowed audibly and there was no doubt that she heard. She skimmed the tips of her fingers regally over her sex as though presenting a rare jewel.

"Adore me..."

The air seemed charged as I caught the faintest hint of her scent and then I was drawn forward as though by an invisible tether. Time stood still and I felt disembodied as I went down to my knees.

There was no subtlety. I licked broadly over the clear divide of her sex filling my mouth with her taste and then I was like an animal. I licked again and again, long strokes, accompanied by a bestial keening. Her sex opened wider as I drove deeper and any pleasure she took was certainly not as a result of my technique.

Juices and saliva bubbled in my nostrils as I tried to sate my irrational need and, in those seconds, I wanted to fuse with her, to feel my tongue squeezed in her comforting depths.

And she understood it all.

She put her hand to the back of my neck, applying a gentle but insistent pressure. Breathing became difficult but I welcomed the onset of light-headedness as I swallowed her warm offering.

I do not think she climaxed; she seemed content to let me work out my feelings but I did not know what I really wanted. At the outset I wanted her to use her mouth on me, to create another of those shattering orgasms, but as I suckled gently at her sex I reached a state of personal nirvana that seemed to transcend the physical.

At some point she released me and I reluctantly fell away from her only to be overwhelmed by immediate sense of guilt.

She rose imperiously, vouchsafing me one last look at her body, before wrapping herself in her kimono and gliding to the door. As it closed behind her I finally broke down. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I wallowed in self recrimination and tried to understand what had just taken place.

The next morning I felt no better and the temptation to give up and leave the complex almost won out but, in the end, I determined to get a grip on myself and at least wait until the conclusion of the Dutch Open.

I reported to Agnetha and we sat as we had the day before. As soon as I was in the room with her I felt my skin flush and my whole body seemed unnaturally warm. I had a notepad on my lap and I scribbled away as she spoke but, every now and again I was taking surreptitious glances at her legs.

When the time came to leave her office my heart was hammering. I headed back to my own room but I paused at the threshold. For a few seconds an internal battle waged in my mind, so intense that it resulted in a headache. One part of me desperately hoped that Tamiko would be there whilst the other was frightened at the prospect.

The room was empty and I now had to cope with a combination of relief and disappointment with both feelings being further exaggerated as I collapsed onto the bed and pushed my hand into my panties.

The next couple of days were a repeat of the same routine. I grew heated in Agnetha's presence, especially as she had a habit of opening her legs as she leaned forward to emphasis a point, and then the anticipation as I returned to my room.

I even shunned the company of the other girls, despite repeated offers to join them in the evening, but I felt I just could not trust myself. It was as if I was living a dream but, in my more lucid moments, I was shaded by a cloud of self-loathiing.

Finally, Agnetha allowed me some court time and it felt comforting, in more ways than one, to have a racket back in my hand. I was surprised, however, when we were ushered to the far end of the hall where there were no nets and no court markings.

On further inspection there was a single rectangle marked out on the floor. It was about six inches square and Agnetha made us stand about six metres back from it keeping it at a diagonal to us. We then spent the whole session lofting shuttles and trying to get them into the defined area.

I could not see the point in this repetitious exercise but the girls took it very seriously and my competitive nature kicked in. After an hour or so Katya was way out in front but there was little to choose between Larina, Aruna and I. Just As I began to hope that we were nearing the end Agnetha shouted out "Forfeits!"

The girls had told me about Agnetha's incentives and I certainly did not want to find myself cleaning one of the other girls rooms or doing laundry for that matter. The problem was that I now tried too hard and that, combined with lack of racket practice, allowed the others to pull ahead.

Katya, as the winner, was allowed to choose my forfeit and the other girls laughed as she said that she wanted her room cleaned. My immediate reaction was to rebel but I did not want to appear to be a spoilsport; so, before dinner I found myself in Katya's room with dustpan and brush.

As it happened she was almost clinically tidy and there was little to do but I determined not to loose the next day.

The following morning we practiced serving over an imaginary net. In reality there was a laser beamed across the hall at the required height and Agnetha could monitor how tight we were to the tape. At intervals she called out our current standings and I was pleased when I moved into the lead but when she shouted "Forfeits" my excitement got the better of me.