George Kilburne – A Game of Tennis

I was much taken with the women tennis players. Their costumes, their complexions, their tiny waists. Genteel play didn’t prohibit their cheeks from assumed a flushed ruddiness as they batted ball after ball across the net. I wanted to join in. More than that, I wanted to undress them and bring them an even more flushed ruddiness to their cheeks as well as their nether parts. Racket in hand, I stepped onto the court. The older couple watching the match looked askance, but that didn’t deter me.

No sooner did I cross the baseline than a wickedly struck ball bashed my tummy, knocking the wind out of me, and I was flat on my back.

“Oh dear oh dear oh dear, Maud, look what you’ve done!” the woman across the net cried out. “Is she dead? We must revive her!”

“How?” Maud asked.

“Breathe into her,” Maud was told.

The woman knelt at my side and applied her mouth to mine. What a sublime kiss!

“Dickie, I think she’s coming to,” Maud told her companion. I groaned.

“More, Maud, more!” Dickie encouraged. “This is so exciting. I need to rescue her too. You have to share.”

“Kiss her cunny,” Maud commanded, before again fastening her lips to mine.

I spread my legs, allowing Dickie better access, and a moment later Dickie’s tongue delved my cunt.

Never had I been so well revived.

The three of us roiled and tangled together until we were all quite sated.

“Now where were we?” Dickie asked.

“I think it was love, love, love,” Maud declared.

Dickie and I smiled in agreement.

It was then I glanced to the sideline. The older couple were fucking.