Chapter 1: Tennis Match

I thought I had the match won. Up 5-4 in the final and deciding set, 40-15 in this game, plus I had two match points. I boomed out a great serve, the ball nailing the line and taking a huge hop out past the doubles alley. But the return was made, hard and fast, catching me off guard. The bright yellow-green ball ripped up the line, faster than I could react and I lost that point.

No problem, I was still up 40-30. I still had another match point. I slammed my first serve right up the middle of the court, throwing my opponent completely off balance. Only a weak little pop-up return was managed, a floater that would fall well-short of the baseline. Determined to finish off this match, I crept up and rifled a beautiful approach shot back into the corner of the court, my momentum carrying me forwards to the net. The ball should have been out of reach, but my opponent scrambled to track it down and flailing at the ball, kicked up a weak lob.

I grinned. Piece of cake. Now I knew I had this match won. I took careful aim and as the ball came down I stepped up and smashed it, putting all of my strength into my stroke and slamming home my victory with a bang.

"Out!"

Oh, crap. In my eagerness, I overhit the ball and sent the ball well behind the baseline. Deuce. My match points were squandered, but I could still close out this game and win the match handily. I've still got the match won.

I wish. It was all downhill from there. I wound up losing the game, and then the match. Dammit. When everything was finally over, I trudged up to the net for the ceremonial handshake.

"Great game!"

"Yeah, sure." Sigh. I'd lost to a girl. What were the guys going to think of me now? "You played well, Michelle."

"Aw, you're just angry you lost to a girl." Seeing Michelle's radiant smile was almost enough to erase the shame of defeat. Almost. Michelle had one of those picture perfect Asian faces. Inverted teardrop-shaped face, big almond shaped eyes. She was definitely what you'd call "very cute." Whenever she smiled, she lit up the whole room. The rest of her wasn't too hard on the eyes either. She had on a white visor that all the tennis girls loved, her jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Right now she wore the tiniest and tightest white short- sleeve blouse that hugged her upper-body assets tightly. Packed into her sports bra, her high-B-cup tits seemed just a little too large for her petite frame. Other than those, her whole body was trim, athletic, and well-toned, betraying no body fat whatsoever. I especially loved the short, black, pleated tennis skirt she wore, which afforded me a wonderful view of her toned legs. It was no wonder she was considered one of the hottest girls on campus.

We exchanged idle chit-chat before deciding to get off the court and go home. After all, we had class tomorrow. "See you later!" she said perkily. With a wave, she about faced and bounced off the court.

Some hormonal part of my body didn't want her to go, but I loved to watch her leave. So loitering on the court for a minute I watched her skirt bounce away, then plodded off to grab my bag and head to my car.

Psychology was boring. A good part of the hour and a half was an utter waste of time. The only interesting thing that happened in class was a particular section we covered on the hormonal differences between males and females. According to the text, men were genetically driven to "spread their genes" and procreate with as many females as possible, to promote the survival of their characteristics. Females on the other hand, seek to find the male most capable of providing for and protecting their offspring, even if that male already has a mate.

Well, that wasn't the only interesting thing that happened in class. Michelle was in the same Psychology course, and had been for the entire quarter. Normally she sat up front with the rest of the overachieving females of her crowd. They weren't nerds, they were just smart and hard-working. Makes you sick sometimes doesn't it. Balancing boyfriends (most were pretty good-looking and well- dressed), other social aspects, sleep, hobbies, and maintaining their high GPAs at the same time, these were the people you'd expect to succeed in life. And to top it off, Michelle and her roommates never settled on the cardboard boxes for TV stands and coffee tables, or stooped so low as to cook up ramen and soda. They found time to cook full meals with rice, meat, and vegetables, and even built some of their furniture with materials from The Home Depot.

Anyways, normally Michelle sat with her roommates, but today she came into class just a few seconds before the professor arrived, and slid into the chair next to me. She wore her hair pulled back into her standard no-nonsense ponytail. Perched on a dainty nose, her ultrathin glasses glinted reflections of the powerpoint presentation on the projector screen. She mumbled a quick "Hi" to me before digging into her bag to get her notebook out.

Perhaps that was the reason I didn't find the lecture interesting today. I'm not a Psych major (she is), and I never found the stuff interesting in the first place, but today seemed especially boring. Plus, the fact that I kept checking Michelle out the whole class probably didn't help. She had on these really tight ivory capris, and an equally tight pastel blue 3/4 top. I could make out the faint outlines of a somewhat lacy bra underneath. She wasn't wearing socks, and had these cute somewhat platformed canvas shoes on. In the middle of a particularly boring speech, her head swiveled towards me in the midst of my none-too-subtle observations of her body.

Reflexively, I jerked back to stare furiously at my notes. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the corners of her lips turn up in an impish smile. "Very good notes."

I looked down at the blank pages before me. I'd spent the last half-hour checking her out and not listening to a damn word the professor was saying. She didn't say anything more, and I made it a point not to stare at her any more for the rest of the class.

The lecture finally ended, and after collecting my binder into my bag, I stood up. Michelle had apparently beaten me to it, and my head bumped into her as I got up. I apologized profusely, but she laughed it off.

"Oh, it's alright."

"Sorry, I wasn't looking."

"You were before, why'd you stop?"

"Oh, don't play games with me, Michelle. You beat me in a tennis match. That doesn't give you the right to tease me for the next week."

"You're right. I could tease you whenever I wanted even if I hadn't beaten you."

"Yeah, yeah. Well, that was luck yesterday."

"Care to prove it?"

"A rematch? You're on."

"Tomorrow is Saturday. One o'clock."

"I'll be there."

"Trust me, you won't regret it." She flashed another radiant smile at me and strolled away towards her apartment. I could only stare in awe at the perfect ass bouncing away from me.

She thought she had the match won. Michelle was up 5-4 in the final set, and I was losing the last game 15-40, and she thought she had it won. But I was not about to lose to a girl again. C'mon, I'm a Varsity player. Granted, she was too, but the women's tennis players could never keep up with the guys. And I had the advantage of serving this game. My first serve drilled up the middle of the court, forcing her to flail out a poor backhand that sailed long. 30-40. She still thought she had the match won. I was losing steam rapidly, my energy drained, and this was her second match point. She couldn't screw up two in a row.

First serve.

Ace.

Deuce.

I was back in the game. Just as I was about to serve again, she noticed that her shoelace had come undone. "Time!" she called out.

I settled down, bounced the ball a few times while Michelle hunched over to tie her shoelace in the middle of the court. It was at that point that I noticed that two extra buttons of her white blouse had come undone, and the neckline of her shirt was hanging down as she tied her shoes. I was on the other side of the net and couldn't really see anything, but I could swear there was a definite hint of cleavage within sight. Calmly, Michelle stood back up and set into her stance, ready to receive. "Okay! I'm ready!"

Back to serving. Back to serving.

Double-fault. Crap.

Advantage-Michelle. She probably thought she had the match won. My second serve had flown well past the service line, bounced off the fence and came to a stop behind her. She turned around to grab it. But rather than scooping up the ball with her racket or trapping it against her foot, she bent at the waist as if touching her toes to grab the ball in her hand. Her tennis skirt had ridden up with her hips, and I had a perfect view of the tightest ass I'd ever seen. Encased in tiny white panties that did a poor job of covering her butt-cheeks, my lower jaw dropped as my brain realized what I was seeing. When she stood up and returned the ball back to me, I tried valiantly to shake the thought out from my brain.

Regaining my composure, and putting the unclean thoughts from my head, I managed to score a point when her forehand approach shot clipped the tape and dropped back on her side of the net. Back to deuce.

She wiped some sweat off her forehead, and trotted up to the ball. Again she crouched down to pick up the ball with her hand. The point had carried me well into the court, nearby the net, and she had to come up to the net as well to reach the ball. She still hadn't fastened those buttons, and when she crouched down to get the ball, the neckline hung loose and I was treated this time to a much closer peek beneath that blouse. This time I could easily identify a white bra encasing two very firm, very fabulous orbs. A part of my mind wondered, why isn't she wearing a sports bra like usual? But I quickly pushed that thought aside as I focused my efforts on memorizing the curves her body displayed for me.

All to soon, she picked up the ball and tossed it to me. Her gaze caught my eye, and she flashed a "I know what you're looking at" smile at me, with a twinkle in her eye.

Now I had to serve again. But my mind was elsewhere. A few dozen feet in front of me to be precise. All I could see were the curves of Michelle's body.

She thought she had the match won.

She was right. After I netted a weak backhand, the match was over. Crap. I'd lost to a girl again.

We had the traditional handshake, and she was very nice about kicking my ass again. "Nearly had me." "Really stuck it to me in the second set." "I'm sure you'll bounce back up again soon." I wasn't really paying attention. Her white blouse was soaked with sweat and was clinging to her body. She also apparently had on a very thin bra, because the whole time she was talking to me I was staring at her hard nipples poking through.

We gathered our things, though Michelle packed up before I did, then bounced over to my bench.

"I realize this isn't the best thing to ask right after the match, but my friend dropped me off today, I didn't drive. So... I was wondering if you might be able to give me a ride back to my apartment?"

Hmm, should I pass up the opportunity to spend even more time with a gorgeous woman whose shirt is fairly transparent at the moment? Well, it might impair my driving, but... "Sure, no problem. Maybe I can interrogate you to find out how you keep beating me."

"Oh, I'm sure you can pump the information out of me."

Smiling at her flirting, we headed for my car. I'd been to her place a few times, my group of guys hung out with her group of girls on a fairly regular basis. When we arrived, she invited me up, saying it would be rude to come by and not say hi to her roommates.

When we got inside, I found that Candice had gone home for the weekend, and there was a note from Anne saying that she went out with her boyfriend for the day. There was no sign of Nicole, the fourth roommate. The apartment was apparently empty.

"Sigh, another lonely Saturday." Michelle pouted, her puffy lips forming a small frown. She looked so cute whenever she did that.

"Don't say that. There are others to hang with," I offered.

"You have anyone in mind?"

"Well, not really. I mean, you've got lots of friends."

"Yeah, but it's a Saturday night. And me with no date."

"Well, if you feel that way, I'll just have to come back here and take you out tonight."

"Really?" That radiant smile came back to her face. "Aw, that would be great!"

I smiled back. Essaying a dramatic bow, "It would be my pleasure, madam. I'll come get you at 7?"

"Nah. Just shower, change, and get back here right after. We can just hang for the afternoon, too."

"As the lady wishes." I gave her a hug goodbye, and she went into her room, closing the door. This could be good. I turned around, and began the short walk to the front door when I heard a door open behind me.

I slowly turned around, expecting to see Michelle coming back out of her room. "Did you forget something?"

"Only to check the hallway."

I froze for a moment, not quite turned around yet. The voice had been sweet and female, but not Michelle's. Then I finished my turn, and got a good look at who had spoken.

It was Michelle's roommate Nicole, standing in the doorway that led to the bathroom and shower beyond. Steam was billowing out the opening up to the ceiling. But it wasn't the steam that caught my attention. Nicole had apparently just finished a shower, and had her long hair tucked underneath that towel turban girls make on top of their heads when drying their hair. But apart from that, she was completely naked. She had ducked partially back behind the door, holding onto the towel with one hand, and covering her one exposed breast with the other. Around the palm of her hand, I could definitely make out the firm shape of a wonderfully large globe sticking out of her chest.

I stopped breathing for a moment, then quickly tried to regain my composure. "Sorry, Nicole. I didn't know you were in there. I was just leaving."

She regarded me coolly, then took a long look downwards to where my cock had jumped upright and was prominently making a dent in my tennis shorts. Her gaze returning up to my face, she stated "Oh, that's alright. This was just an accident between two grown adults. So I guess if you're going to have to deal with the awkwardness, you might as well get your money's worth." And with that, she stepped out from the door and calmly walked to her room, wearing nothing but a big smile the whole way.

I could feel my heart thudding in my chest. While Michelle was the 'cute' one, Nicole was the sensuously gorgeous one. She was a bit taller than Michelle, her hips pleasantly curved and her chest obviously quite full. And since I currently saw her without bra support, I could tell that those C-cups were wonderfully round and perky, her nipples standing at attention in the cool air. Her smile was dazzling, and not a little bit predatory. And right now I got to see a whole lot more of her than I expected. As a fellow tennis player, she was trim and in shape. Her skin still carried the afterglow of a warm shower, although it seemed that wasn't the only reason her skin was flushed. She seemed more than a little aroused by the situation, her pussy lips spread open to reveal her pink insides, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover she had shaved her pussy completely bare.

And then she moved into her room, and closed the door, removing her amazing body from my sight. I stood still for a few minutes, not believing what just happened. And then I remembered my "date" with Michelle. Pushing Nicole out of my mind, I rushed back home.

After a quick shower, I got redressed for a proper college Saturday night date. Despite Nicole's little nude parade, I found all of my thoughts centered around Michelle. She was the perky, happy, and outgoing type I had always been attracted to. She was flirty and witty as a conversationalist, and more than pleasant to look at. While getting dressed, I found that I was actually nervous. It had been a long time since I had been nervous before a date. But with Michelle, I really wanted things to work out. I hoped so desperately that we could turn this into a real dating relationship. I stopped by a flower shop on the way back to her apartment to pick up some roses, double-checked my appearance in the rear-view mirror, then strutted up to the apartment.