Volleyball

Tony liked beach volleyball. Watching it, that is. Not playing it. He thought that whoever had the idea that players must wear bathing costumes was a genius. There's nothing better than watching pretty girls in small bikinis bouncing all over the place.

There had been a friendly tournament running on the local beach for the past few weekends. It was just a scratch competition. Girls were asked to put their names forward for teams so that a quick knockout competition could be played. No cost to play, just be willing to be there when it was your turn to play. One of the local clubs was lending a net and a club member had volunteered to be the umpire. (Probably so he could get a close up of the action.) There was a prize that would be won by the winning team, a pair of tiny little cups that someone had offered. It was definitely a case of play for the prestige, not the reward.

Tony was there to watch the final match. He thought it would be a pretty one-sided game with a pair of blonde look-a-likes being the probable winners. These girls were fit and active, as well as being pretty damned attractive, and they seemed a class above the rest of the competition. He'd seen a couple of their earlier matches and they weren't half bad.

As you can guess there were a number of spectators for the final. There was also this bloke going around taking bets on the game. He wasn't offering odds, he said. Just even money. He wasn't in it for the profit, just helping everyone have a good time. He reckoned that the betting was split fifty/fifty and he'd come out even. Tony thought he was nuts as the blondes were clearly the better side. Still, he put ten bucks down, regarding it as an easy ten if he won and who really cared if he lost?

He was also willing to admit that he thought the man was a bit of a flop as a potential bookie. Most of the bets seemed to be going on the blondes. He was likely to finish up losing quite a bit or, more probably, have a bunch of irate customers on his hands when he couldn't pay. Tony resolved to stand fairly close to him so he could get in first for his winnings.

Wouldn't you know it? One of the blondes turned in a shocker. She seemed to twist her ankle slightly at the start of the game and was off her stride from that point on. The blondes got beaten, much to the joy of their underdog opponents, who carried off their tiny cups with great glee. Tony sighed and scratched ten bucks, making a mental note that the amateur bookie must have made a killing. Lucky him.

A little while later Tony wandered off to get a cold drink. He was strolling through the car park on the way back to the beach when he saw a familiar head of blonde hair. He turned in that direction, thinking to wander over and commiserate with the lovely young thing for losing her match. She was dressed now, but the clothes she wore didn't cover much more than the bikini had. Her blonde hair and lovely figure made her very easy to recognise.

She was no longer limping, presumably the slight strain having eased, probably with the help of a bit of liniment. Before he could catch up to her she deviated from her path slightly, turning towards a man who was heading in her direction. They met up and he produced a small wad of cash and gave it to her while Tony stood there and watched and seethed.

Ten bucks is nothing. You spend it and forget it. Ten bucks that you have been cheated out of is something else entirely. You put together a twisted ankle and a bad game, add an apparently unharmed ankle and a bookie handing over cash to an unexpected loser, and you have a very nasty little solution. Tony strolled up behind them.

"Excuse me," he said politely, "but I believe you owe me twenty."

They both turned to look at him, rather startled.

"Ah, what do you mean?" asked the bookie. "I paid out down on the beach. All winners got their money."

"Not all. I bet on blondie here to win and from what I can see," he looked pointedly at the wad of cash in her hand, "she won quite handsomely. Therefore, you owe me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," protested the bookie. "I just happened to owe Miranda some money and was paying her."

"The question is why did you owe her money? Does her partner know that you owe her money? Do you owe her partner any money? I see my bookie paying out money to people I don't think he should be giving money to and I find I have a lot of questions. I guess I'm a little funny that way. I wonder how many other people who had a bet will want to ask similar questions."

The two of them looked at each other and then both glared at Tony, not at all happy. They didn't seem to want to cough up the cash, though.

"I guess I can go and ask your partner what she thinks of this. It struck me that she seemed awfully keen to win. She nearly pulled it off in spite of your bum ankle."

"Pay the fucker," snapped Miranda.

"What?" The bookie sounded scandalised. Pay out his hard earned money to a sucker? An unheard of thing to do.

"Belinda will pull my hair out by the roots if she thinks she was cheated of the win. You know how competitive she is. And once she's finished with me she'll come after you."

"Screw Belinda," said the bookie, standing defiant. "I'm not scared of her."

"Really? Want me to tell her that? Give the man the money. It's only twenty."

The bookie fished out two tens and gave them to me, very reluctantly.

"Don't try and place any more bets with me," he grumbled. "I don't want your sort of custom."

He had to be kidding, Tony thought. He'd probably take money from a babe in arms if he could get it. Anyway, the chances of Tony placing a bet with him for any reason were slim and none. He took his money, wished then good afternoon, and departed.

That was, theoretically, the end of that. Tony wandered back down to the beach and set about entertaining himself. As part of this entertainment naturally included flirting with the girls he wasn't too surprised to run into Belinda, the second of the blonde ball players. The lost match was the perfect reason to say hullo.

Belinda sounded a little peeved at losing the match but put it down to one of those things. One couldn't win every time and as long as you tried there was no disgrace in losing. What with one thing and another Tony parlayed their conversation into a date. She agreed to meet him at a restaurant for dinner and a show, insistent that she'd make her way to the restaurant. That way she had transport home if things went sour.

The dinner went well. Too well. By the end of it they were getting on like brother and sister and neither of them was into incest. Tony had been firmly friend-zoned and they both knew it. Not to worry. Sometimes the spark is there and sometimes it isn't.

They dated several times over the next couple of months. Both of them were comfortable with the other, they might have been friends since childhood. This doesn't mean that Tony didn't realise that Belinda had a lovely face and figure. He did. He just wasn't interested in getting her to bed. Strange, but these things happen.

After one of their dates she finally invited Tony in for coffee, meaning coffee. He thought why not and they headed in for a hot drink on what was a cool night.

They were sitting back, drinking their coffee and just talking about nothing in particular, when Miranda walked in.

"What the fuck is he doing here?" Miranda yelled.

"Ah, you two know each other?" a bemused Belinda asked.

"No!" was Miranda's immediate reply.

"Only in passing," Tony said. "I know her name's Miranda and she was your partner. For some reason we didn't take to each other. My name's Anthony, by the way. You can call me Tony."

Miranda was giving him hard looks, obviously wondering if he was going to bring up the game. When he didn't say anything more she just sniffed, tossed her head back, and stormed off, slamming the door behind her. Moments later he heard a second door slam, presumably her bedroom door.

"She's your house-mate, I take it? I don't think she likes me," he said, sitting back comfortably and smiling, not minding the girl's display of temper.

"Ah, yes, she is. Funny, she doesn't normally act like that."

"A natural antipathy, I guess. Some people take instant dislikes. I guess she's one of them where I'm concerned."

"It doesn't worry you?"

"Not really. I know how magnificent and lovable I am. If she doesn't it's her loss."

"You'll break your arm, patting yourself on the back like that," Belinda observed and Tony just grinned at her.

Belinda and Tony were seeing more of each other but it was increasingly clear that neither of them had any real desire to break free of the friend-zone. Tony also saw more of Miranda in passing, but only in passing. In passing meant that whenever he was there she headed elsewhere. It was to a certain degree both amusing and irritating. Tony felt that she should be showing more maturity but could still laugh about it.

There came a day when Tony was engaged to take Belinda out to a gallery opening. He was running early and she just shoved him into the kitchen to cool his heels while she finished getting ready. At one stage he had to visit the bathroom and did so. Wandering back to the kitchen he passed Miranda's room. The door was open and she was in there, lying on her bed, listening to music. At least, that's what he assumed from the giant headphones she was wearing. He took a smart right turn and wandered in to say hullo.

She was lightly dressed, the day having been hot and the evening still warm. A nice blue top, that probably came to her knees when she stood up, and black tights. She looked quite delectable just lying there, her hand idly beating time to the music. Then she spotted Tony standing next to her and she started as though someone had goosed her.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"Oh, just looking at you and wondering what you'll be like when you grow up?" he answered easily.

She glanced down at herself. She really did have a nice figure.

"You don't seriously mean to say that you consider me a child," she sneered.

"Mentally," he murmured. "Physically you seem reasonably mature."

"Well, for your information I am quite mature, both physically and mentally. So you can stand and look all you like. It won't change anything."

There was an invitation that he had no intention of turning down. Lying on the bed and moving around had caused her top to ride up somewhat and there was an inch or so of skin showing between the top and her tights. Accepting her kind invitation to look at her he reached down, took hold of her tights, and pulled them down and off, thoughtfully taking her panties with him along the way.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" she exploded, at the same time pulling her top down to cover her more secretive places.

"Looking at all I like," he said calmly. "You just said I could. Excuse me a moment."

The excuse me was a small apology for the fact that he was pulling her top out of her hands and moving it rapidly up her body.

"Arms up," he murmured, slightly startled when she actually lifted them a little, letting him take the top off. He wondered if she realised that he had her bra when she lifted her arms? Whatever she knew or didn't know, the upshot was that she was suddenly naked, and quite beautiful with it.

She was also in a bit of a quandary, not knowing how to react. Or how she'd come to be naked, for that matter. He saw her eyes flick to the door and when she realised that it was open she relaxed a little. Belinda was out there and if she walked past she'd see them, so Tony couldn't do anything too extreme.

What he could, and did, do was to stroke her. He sat down on the bed next to her and ran his hands along her body, stroking her from her knees to her shoulders. He didn't specifically grope for her mons or her breasts, but neither did he try to avoid them. He just ran his hand across her body, whatever was there was there, and just treasured the touch.

"Are you even listening to me?" she suddenly yelled, smacking at his arm. Quite hard, too.

"Of course I am," he protested, then corrected myself. "Ah, no, not really," he admitted. "Sorry. I was too distracted by your lovely body. What were you saying?"

"I was saying you can't do this to me and you should take your hands off me," she snapped.

"Oh. Good thing I wasn't listening, then," he muttered, continuing to run his hand over her.

"Will you stop that?" she demanded.

"Depends," he murmured. "Is this any better?"

Seeing his hand was crossing a breast at the time he stopped his general exploration in favour of paying some closer attention to her breasts and nipples. He could swear that her breasts were swelling slightly under his touch and the erectness of her nipples made it plain that they were eager for a little attention.

He started to be more particular about which parts of her body he was caressing. He thought things were progressing quite nicely when he was hit on the arm again. Surprised, he looked at her.

"Will you pay attention?" she demanded.

He glanced down at where one hand was cupping her mound, compressing it slightly in time to her pulse. Well, not quite in time. He was anticipating her pulse by a fraction of a second which tended to make her pulse run just that little faster, resulting in her heating up a little. His other hand was on her breast, stroking it to the same beat.

"Ah, I am paying attention to you," he pointed out. "How much more attention do you want?"

"Pay attention to what I'm saying," she stressed.

"They always say actions speak louder than words," he said self-righteously, "or in your case, reactions. Those are telling me I'm doing the right thing. But you're right, I should have been listening. I'm sorry. What were you saying?"

"I was saying I want you to take your hands off of me," she said repressively.

"Hum. It seems that I was right after all and I shouldn't have been listening to you," he grumbled.

"Might I remind you that you're Belinda's boyfriend, not mine? What is she going to say if she catches you making a pass at me? I don't even like you."

"I am Belinda's friend, not boyfriend. There's no carnal curiosity between us. If she catches me making a pass she'll just shut the door to give us some privacy."

He turned and looked pointedly at the bedroom door, a door that was now firmly closed. Now that he thought about it he vaguely recalled hearing some giggling. Miranda turned and looked at the door in surprise, her face blushing.

"As to not liking me," he continued, "that's OK. I'm not proposing marriage or anything. I'm just trying to seduce you. Um, are you going to get all upset and panicky if I take my trousers off now? I think we're just about ready for the next step of the seduction to take place."

"You haven't listened to a damn word I said, have you?" stated Miranda.

"I've listened. It's just that I've also been ignoring them as you weren't saying anything I wanted to hear. Ah, you haven't answered my question. Are you going to panic?"

Miranda groaned and put a hand over her face.

"You have a one track mind. No, I'm not going to panic. I suppose you intend to fuck me no matter what I say?"

"Don't be silly. All you have to do is say no and mean it."

"I've been saying no."

"No, not really. You've been suggesting that I stop, move my hands, and listen to you when you speak. You haven't said no."

"NO!"

"And mean it, I said. Yelling no while at the same time pressing your pussy against my hand isn't very convincing."

"I didn't press myself against your hand. Did I? Oh god, I did."

Tony stood up and started undoing his belt.

"What are you doing now?"

"I told you. My trousers. I consider it rude to just unzip."

Mere moments passed before Tony was lying on the bed next to Miranda, his trousers on the floor. Reaching out he took her hand and moved it to a more rewarding position.

Miranda looked as though she wanted to say something nasty but kept her mouth firmly closed, making sure he knew what an effort she was putting in to do it. All the same, her hand automatically moved that last inch, closing around him.

At this point Tony found things becoming more interesting. Miranda was not at all backwards about learning all she could about her new found toy. With a giggle she sat up, her delightful breasts bouncing happily in front of him, while she played.

Tony was only too pleased to reach up and capture her breasts, stoking and massaging while she returned the honours with his cock. He was quietly confident that it would only be a matter of minutes before he was spreading her legs and mounting her.

He was wrong. Barely a minute passed before Miranda took full charge, swinging her leg over him and guiding him into her. Just like that Tony found himself with his cock high while Miranda eased down, sliding onto his pole with the greatest alacrity. Not that he was going to complain. It might have been a surprise but it was certainly a pleasant one.

Now that she was committed Miranda worked hard on getting her pleasure. Initially she just rocked in place, creating enough movement to get some pleasant friction going. Tony was quite comfortable with just lying there and letting it happen, his hands still on her breasts. Miranda's movements slowly increased in scope until she was actually sliding up and down, letting Tony get a decent thrust going.

Finally she fell forward against him, her breasts crushed between them, her lips locked to his. They kissed hard and hot, Miranda's hips still maintaining a nice bouncing rhythm on Tony's erection, helped now by Tony making a serious effort as he pushed up to meet her.

Tony idly pondered his situation. While he liked to finish up on top, driving home with all his power, would it be fair to Miranda to change position? She was doing such a good job that it seemed the right thing to do would be to just let her go. He decided to wait on developments.

The developments when they came were not what Tony had expected. With no real warning, Miranda climaxed, collapsing on him, shaking with the force of her orgasm, a wail coming from her lips. Annoying, as he was not yet ready, but not an insoluble problem.

Still rigid and still inside her, Tony coaxed Miranda back into a sitting position. A little more coaxing and she swivelled around on his cock until she was facing away from him. Hands firmly holding her hips he rolled over and up, coming into a kneeling position with Miranda on all fours in front of him, cock still engaged.

And becoming even more engaged as he started his own movements. Hands circling her and capturing her breasts, Tony went to work. (Sweet work if you can get it.) He drove in hard. He drove in often. Miranda was gasping and bucking against him, her sensitive flesh being goaded into new levels of excitement as he plundered her sweet body, happily giving his all to his cause.

Tony was finally about ready to climax, driving in harder than ever, but still holding that little in reserve, feeling that Miranda wasn't quite there for her second treat of the day. He listened to the involuntary sounds she was making as he thrust into her, hoping that this time he'd pick up the proper signals.

Then he was giving his all, his reserves brought into play, holding nothing back. He took her hard and she responded, catching fire and giving a shriek as she climaxed again, this time accompanied by Tony's own effort.

After he had his trousers on Tony wandered out to speak to Belinda and try to explain what had happened. She wasn't there but there was a note on the table.

"You looked as though you were going to be busy for a while," the note read. "I thought I'd better take my own car to the gallery. Have fun."