u/acorn_sweetleaf

With my head down against the floor and the lower half of my body naked and exposed, I couldn’t believe where I was. My little pleated tennis skirt was now so far up my body that it had bunched around my hips, and my complete lack of panties meant that Matt–one of my closest friends and de facto tennis teacher–could see everything.

Was I dreaming?

Or had I really done something this slutty?

“Nearly got it…” I called, my arm under the gap in the wall, my hand wrapped around the ball, my heart racing as I pretended to search for it, my pussy and ass completely spread for him.

The longer I held the pose, the faster my heart was beating, and my head was starting to swim with slutty thoughts.I wished he was behind me at that moment, placing his palm between my legs and gently pushing his fingers inside me.

I felt my throat go dry and my nipples harden.

Fuck, I needed something to suck. Badly.

“Got it,” I called, opening my legs a little wider and popping my pussy out as much as I possibly could, giving him one final view before standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

Matt’s face was priceless.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and his skin was crimson; the latter I presumed was more than just the result of the exercise. He wasn't just looking at me, either; he was staring, his gaze fixed on my hips as if he could see right through the thin fabric of the skirt.

I bounced the ball on the court, the sound sharp and loud in the sudden silence. “What?”

“Sarah…” he said. “You know you’re…not…um…” He trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't answer. He just stood there, one hand still gripping his racket, the other hanging loosely at his side. And his shorts…oh god, his shorts. They were doing a terrible job of hiding his reaction. The fabric was stretched tight over a very obvious, very hard cock, pointing up and slightly to the left, straining against the material, a clear ridge outlining his length. Seeing it, seeing how hard I had made him, only made me want to push him further.

I walked to the net, my hips swaying with an exaggerated rhythm. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the white tape, knowing the position pushed my ass out behind me. The skirt hem barely covered anything now.

"You seem distracted," I said, my voice low. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes darted from my face down to my chest. "No. I’m good…”

"Good,” I smiled, pretending his erection wasn’t obvious. Pretending I wasn’t thinking about trying to take it all inside me. Pretending I hadn't been thinking about him when I’d been on all fours.

That’s when I came up with my evil plan…

“Wanna work on my backhand?”

"Sure," Matt said. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what did you want to–"

“I’ll come around,” I said, already starting my journey, my hips swaying. I stopped in front of him and turned my back to him, bending slightly at the waist. "Okay, show me what I'm doing wrong," I said, holding my racket limply.

He took a deep breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "Right," he said, his voice a little steadier. "So, you want to stand sideways to the net, like this.”

“I can’t see you,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “Come and show me.”

He moved to stand behind me, and I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over my body. He was close now, and I knew my horniness was taking over.

"Okay," he said, his voice right next to my ear. "Just...relax. Let me guide you."

I sighed with pleasure and felt my legs relax slightly as I backed up into him. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh just above the hem of my skirt. "You're too stiff," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "You need to loosen up."

I leaned back into him further, and for the first time, I felt his hard cock press against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. "Like this?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "Just...like that."

He adjusted his stance, his legs bracketing mine, and I could feel his entire length pressed against me. "Now, when you swing," he continued, his hands still on my hips. "You need to pivot your back foot and rotate your hips. Like this." He guided me through the motion, his hands pushing my hips forward and then around, and I ground my ass back against him, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh," I gasped, feigning surprise. "I see."

I could feel him getting harder, his cock straining against his shorts, pushing between my cheeks. I pressed back against him again, this time with a little more pressure, and I felt him throb.

"Is that right?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, his hands tightening on my hips. "You're a...you're a natural."

I could feel the wetness between my legs. I wanted him to touch me, to slip his hands under my skirt and feel how wet I was for him.

"Again," he said. "Let's do it again."

I swung the racket again, and as I pivoted, I ground my ass against him fully now, a slow, circular motion that took me from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Sometimes,” I said, my breath coming fast and hot now, my inhibitions far in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. I slowly slid my hands up my thighs, still gyrating my hips, until my fingers reached my pleated skirt. “I just wish someone would show me what to do…”

I continued to lift my hands, taking the skirt with me, slowly pulling it upward, revealing my thighs, my hips, my ass. Suddenly I was naked from the waist down, my body pressed against his.

“Like…” I was breathing heavily now. “Really showed me what to do, you know? Just…took charge of the situation…”

Behind me, I felt Matt pull down his shorts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was going to get exactly what I deserved…

With my head down against the floor and the lower half of my body naked and exposed, I couldn’t believe where I was. My little pleated tennis skirt was now so far up my body that it had bunched around my hips, and my complete lack of panties meant that Matt–one of my closest friends and de facto tennis teacher–could see everything.

Was I dreaming?

Or had I really done something this slutty?

“Nearly got it…” I called, my arm under the gap in the wall, my hand wrapped around the ball, my heart racing as I pretended to search for it, my pussy and ass completely spread for him.

The longer I held the pose, the faster my heart was beating, and my head was starting to swim with slutty thoughts.I wished he was behind me at that moment, placing his palm between my legs and gently pushing his fingers inside me.

I felt my throat go dry and my nipples harden.

Fuck, I needed something to suck. Badly.

“Got it,” I called, opening my legs a little wider and popping my pussy out as much as I possibly could, giving him one final view before standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

Matt’s face was priceless.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and his skin was crimson; the latter I presumed was more than just the result of the exercise. He wasn't just looking at me, either; he was staring, his gaze fixed on my hips as if he could see right through the thin fabric of the skirt.

I bounced the ball on the court, the sound sharp and loud in the sudden silence. “What?”

“Sarah…” he said. “You know you’re…not…um…” He trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't answer. He just stood there, one hand still gripping his racket, the other hanging loosely at his side. And his shorts…oh god, his shorts. They were doing a terrible job of hiding his reaction. The fabric was stretched tight over a very obvious, very hard cock, pointing up and slightly to the left, straining against the material, a clear ridge outlining his length. Seeing it, seeing how hard I had made him, only made me want to push him further.

I walked to the net, my hips swaying with an exaggerated rhythm. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the white tape, knowing the position pushed my ass out behind me. The skirt hem barely covered anything now.

"You seem distracted," I said, my voice low. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes darted from my face down to my chest. "No. I’m good…”

"Good,” I smiled, pretending his erection wasn’t obvious. Pretending I wasn’t thinking about trying to take it all inside me. Pretending I hadn't been thinking about him when I’d been on all fours.

That’s when I came up with my evil plan…

“Wanna work on my backhand?”

"Sure," Matt said. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what did you want to–"

“I’ll come around,” I said, already starting my journey, my hips swaying. I stopped in front of him and turned my back to him, bending slightly at the waist. "Okay, show me what I'm doing wrong," I said, holding my racket limply.

He took a deep breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "Right," he said, his voice a little steadier. "So, you want to stand sideways to the net, like this.”

“I can’t see you,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “Come and show me.”

He moved to stand behind me, and I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over my body. He was close now, and I knew my horniness was taking over.

"Okay," he said, his voice right next to my ear. "Just...relax. Let me guide you."

I sighed with pleasure and felt my legs relax slightly as I backed up into him. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh just above the hem of my skirt. "You're too stiff," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "You need to loosen up."

I leaned back into him further, and for the first time, I felt his hard cock press against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. "Like this?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "Just...like that."

He adjusted his stance, his legs bracketing mine, and I could feel his entire length pressed against me. "Now, when you swing," he continued, his hands still on my hips. "You need to pivot your back foot and rotate your hips. Like this." He guided me through the motion, his hands pushing my hips forward and then around, and I ground my ass back against him, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh," I gasped, feigning surprise. "I see."

I could feel him getting harder, his cock straining against his shorts, pushing between my cheeks. I pressed back against him again, this time with a little more pressure, and I felt him throb.

"Is that right?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, his hands tightening on my hips. "You're a...you're a natural."

I could feel the wetness between my legs. I wanted him to touch me, to slip his hands under my skirt and feel how wet I was for him.

"Again," he said. "Let's do it again."

I swung the racket again, and as I pivoted, I ground my ass against him fully now, a slow, circular motion that took me from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Sometimes,” I said, my breath coming fast and hot now, my inhibitions far in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. I slowly slid my hands up my thighs, still gyrating my hips, until my fingers reached my pleated skirt. “I just wish someone would show me what to do…”

I continued to lift my hands, taking the skirt with me, slowly pulling it upward, revealing my thighs, my hips, my ass. Suddenly I was naked from the waist down, my body pressed against his.

“Like…” I was breathing heavily now. “Really showed me what to do, you know? Just…took charge of the situation…”

Behind me, I felt Matt pull down his shorts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was going to get exactly what I deserved…

With my head down against the floor and the lower half of my body naked and exposed, I couldn’t believe where I was. My little pleated tennis skirt was now so far up my body that it had bunched around my hips, and my complete lack of panties meant that Matt–one of my closest friends and de facto tennis teacher–could see everything.

Was I dreaming?

Or had I really done something this slutty?

“Nearly got it…” I called, my arm under the gap in the wall, my hand wrapped around the ball, my heart racing as I pretended to search for it, my pussy and ass completely spread for him.

The longer I held the pose, the faster my heart was beating, and my head was starting to swim with slutty thoughts.I wished he was behind me at that moment, placing his palm between my legs and gently pushing his fingers inside me.

I felt my throat go dry and my nipples harden.

Fuck, I needed something to suck. Badly.

“Got it,” I called, opening my legs a little wider and popping my pussy out as much as I possibly could, giving him one final view before standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

Matt’s face was priceless.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and his skin was crimson; the latter I presumed was more than just the result of the exercise. He wasn't just looking at me, either; he was staring, his gaze fixed on my hips as if he could see right through the thin fabric of the skirt.

I bounced the ball on the court, the sound sharp and loud in the sudden silence. “What?”

“Sarah…” he said. “You know you’re…not…um…” He trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't answer. He just stood there, one hand still gripping his racket, the other hanging loosely at his side. And his shorts…oh god, his shorts. They were doing a terrible job of hiding his reaction. The fabric was stretched tight over a very obvious, very hard cock, pointing up and slightly to the left, straining against the material, a clear ridge outlining his length. Seeing it, seeing how hard I had made him, only made me want to push him further.

I walked to the net, my hips swaying with an exaggerated rhythm. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the white tape, knowing the position pushed my ass out behind me. The skirt hem barely covered anything now.

"You seem distracted," I said, my voice low. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes darted from my face down to my chest. "No. I’m good…”

"Good,” I smiled, pretending his erection wasn’t obvious. Pretending I wasn’t thinking about trying to take it all inside me. Pretending I hadn't been thinking about him when I’d been on all fours.

That’s when I came up with my evil plan…

“Wanna work on my backhand?”

"Sure," Matt said. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what did you want to–"

“I’ll come around,” I said, already starting my journey, my hips swaying. I stopped in front of him and turned my back to him, bending slightly at the waist. "Okay, show me what I'm doing wrong," I said, holding my racket limply.

He took a deep breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "Right," he said, his voice a little steadier. "So, you want to stand sideways to the net, like this.”

“I can’t see you,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “Come and show me.”

He moved to stand behind me, and I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over my body. He was close now, and I knew my horniness was taking over.

"Okay," he said, his voice right next to my ear. "Just...relax. Let me guide you."

I sighed with pleasure and felt my legs relax slightly as I backed up into him. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh just above the hem of my skirt. "You're too stiff," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "You need to loosen up."

I leaned back into him further, and for the first time, I felt his hard cock press against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. "Like this?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "Just...like that."

He adjusted his stance, his legs bracketing mine, and I could feel his entire length pressed against me. "Now, when you swing," he continued, his hands still on my hips. "You need to pivot your back foot and rotate your hips. Like this." He guided me through the motion, his hands pushing my hips forward and then around, and I ground my ass back against him, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh," I gasped, feigning surprise. "I see."

I could feel him getting harder, his cock straining against his shorts, pushing between my cheeks. I pressed back against him again, this time with a little more pressure, and I felt him throb.

"Is that right?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, his hands tightening on my hips. "You're a...you're a natural."

I could feel the wetness between my legs. I wanted him to touch me, to slip his hands under my skirt and feel how wet I was for him.

"Again," he said. "Let's do it again."

I swung the racket again, and as I pivoted, I ground my ass against him fully now, a slow, circular motion that took me from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Sometimes,” I said, my breath coming fast and hot now, my inhibitions far in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. I slowly slid my hands up my thighs, still gyrating my hips, until my fingers reached my pleated skirt. “I just wish someone would show me what to do…”

I continued to lift my hands, taking the skirt with me, slowly pulling it upward, revealing my thighs, my hips, my ass. Suddenly I was naked from the waist down, my body pressed against his.

“Like…” I was breathing heavily now. “Really showed me what to do, you know? Just…took charge of the situation…”

Behind me, I felt Matt pull down his shorts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was going to get exactly what I deserved…

With my head down against the floor and the lower half of my body naked and exposed, I couldn’t believe where I was. My little pleated tennis skirt was now so far up my body that it had bunched around my hips, and my complete lack of panties meant that Matt–one of my closest friends and de facto tennis teacher–could see everything.

Was I dreaming?

Or had I really done something this slutty?

“Nearly got it…” I called, my arm under the gap in the wall, my hand wrapped around the ball, my heart racing as I pretended to search for it, my pussy and ass completely spread for him.

The longer I held the pose, the faster my heart was beating, and my head was starting to swim with slutty thoughts.I wished he was behind me at that moment, placing his palm between my legs and gently pushing his fingers inside me.

I felt my throat go dry and my nipples harden.

Fuck, I needed something to suck. Badly.

“Got it,” I called, opening my legs a little wider and popping my pussy out as much as I possibly could, giving him one final view before standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

Matt’s face was priceless.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and his skin was crimson; the latter I presumed was more than just the result of the exercise. He wasn't just looking at me, either; he was staring, his gaze fixed on my hips as if he could see right through the thin fabric of the skirt.

I bounced the ball on the court, the sound sharp and loud in the sudden silence. “What?”

“Sarah…” he said. “You know you’re…not…um…” He trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't answer. He just stood there, one hand still gripping his racket, the other hanging loosely at his side. And his shorts…oh god, his shorts. They were doing a terrible job of hiding his reaction. The fabric was stretched tight over a very obvious, very hard cock, pointing up and slightly to the left, straining against the material, a clear ridge outlining his length. Seeing it, seeing how hard I had made him, only made me want to push him further.

I walked to the net, my hips swaying with an exaggerated rhythm. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the white tape, knowing the position pushed my ass out behind me. The skirt hem barely covered anything now.

"You seem distracted," I said, my voice low. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes darted from my face down to my chest. "No. I’m good…”

"Good,” I smiled, pretending his erection wasn’t obvious. Pretending I wasn’t thinking about trying to take it all inside me. Pretending I hadn't been thinking about him when I’d been on all fours.

That’s when I came up with my evil plan…

“Wanna work on my backhand?”

"Sure," Matt said. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what did you want to–"

“I’ll come around,” I said, already starting my journey, my hips swaying. I stopped in front of him and turned my back to him, bending slightly at the waist. "Okay, show me what I'm doing wrong," I said, holding my racket limply.

He took a deep breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "Right," he said, his voice a little steadier. "So, you want to stand sideways to the net, like this.”

“I can’t see you,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “Come and show me.”

He moved to stand behind me, and I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over my body. He was close now, and I knew my horniness was taking over.

"Okay," he said, his voice right next to my ear. "Just...relax. Let me guide you."

I sighed with pleasure and felt my legs relax slightly as I backed up into him. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh just above the hem of my skirt. "You're too stiff," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "You need to loosen up."

I leaned back into him further, and for the first time, I felt his hard cock press against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. "Like this?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "Just...like that."

He adjusted his stance, his legs bracketing mine, and I could feel his entire length pressed against me. "Now, when you swing," he continued, his hands still on my hips. "You need to pivot your back foot and rotate your hips. Like this." He guided me through the motion, his hands pushing my hips forward and then around, and I ground my ass back against him, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh," I gasped, feigning surprise. "I see."

I could feel him getting harder, his cock straining against his shorts, pushing between my cheeks. I pressed back against him again, this time with a little more pressure, and I felt him throb.

"Is that right?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, his hands tightening on my hips. "You're a...you're a natural."

I could feel the wetness between my legs. I wanted him to touch me, to slip his hands under my skirt and feel how wet I was for him.

"Again," he said. "Let's do it again."

I swung the racket again, and as I pivoted, I ground my ass against him fully now, a slow, circular motion that took me from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Sometimes,” I said, my breath coming fast and hot now, my inhibitions far in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. I slowly slid my hands up my thighs, still gyrating my hips, until my fingers reached my pleated skirt. “I just wish someone would show me what to do…”

I continued to lift my hands, taking the skirt with me, slowly pulling it upward, revealing my thighs, my hips, my ass. Suddenly I was naked from the waist down, my body pressed against his.

“Like…” I was breathing heavily now. “Really showed me what to do, you know? Just…took charge of the situation…”

Behind me, I felt Matt pull down his shorts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was going to get exactly what I deserved…

With my head down against the floor and the lower half of my body naked and exposed, I couldn’t believe where I was. My little pleated tennis skirt was now so far up my body that it had bunched around my hips, and my complete lack of panties meant that Matt–one of my closest friends and de facto tennis teacher–could see everything.

Was I dreaming?

Or had I really done something this slutty?

“Nearly got it…” I called, my arm under the gap in the wall, my hand wrapped around the ball, my heart racing as I pretended to search for it, my pussy and ass completely spread for him.

The longer I held the pose, the faster my heart was beating, and my head was starting to swim with slutty thoughts.I wished he was behind me at that moment, placing his palm between my legs and gently pushing his fingers inside me.

I felt my throat go dry and my nipples harden.

Fuck, I needed something to suck. Badly.

“Got it,” I called, opening my legs a little wider and popping my pussy out as much as I possibly could, giving him one final view before standing up and smoothing down my skirt.

Matt’s face was priceless.

His mouth was slightly open, his eyes were wide, and his skin was crimson; the latter I presumed was more than just the result of the exercise. He wasn't just looking at me, either; he was staring, his gaze fixed on my hips as if he could see right through the thin fabric of the skirt.

I bounced the ball on the court, the sound sharp and loud in the sudden silence. “What?”

“Sarah…” he said. “You know you’re…not…um…” He trailed off.

“What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

He didn't answer. He just stood there, one hand still gripping his racket, the other hanging loosely at his side. And his shorts…oh god, his shorts. They were doing a terrible job of hiding his reaction. The fabric was stretched tight over a very obvious, very hard cock, pointing up and slightly to the left, straining against the material, a clear ridge outlining his length. Seeing it, seeing how hard I had made him, only made me want to push him further.

I walked to the net, my hips swaying with an exaggerated rhythm. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the white tape, knowing the position pushed my ass out behind me. The skirt hem barely covered anything now.

"You seem distracted," I said, my voice low. "Something on your mind?"

His eyes darted from my face down to my chest. "No. I’m good…”

"Good,” I smiled, pretending his erection wasn’t obvious. Pretending I wasn’t thinking about trying to take it all inside me. Pretending I hadn't been thinking about him when I’d been on all fours.

That’s when I came up with my evil plan…

“Wanna work on my backhand?”

"Sure," Matt said. He cleared his throat. "Yeah, what did you want to–"

“I’ll come around,” I said, already starting my journey, my hips swaying. I stopped in front of him and turned my back to him, bending slightly at the waist. "Okay, show me what I'm doing wrong," I said, holding my racket limply.

He took a deep breath, and I watched his chest rise and fall. "Right," he said, his voice a little steadier. "So, you want to stand sideways to the net, like this.”

“I can’t see you,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “Come and show me.”

He moved to stand behind me, and I felt a fresh wave of heat wash over my body. He was close now, and I knew my horniness was taking over.

"Okay," he said, his voice right next to my ear. "Just...relax. Let me guide you."

I sighed with pleasure and felt my legs relax slightly as I backed up into him. He placed his hands on my hips, his fingers digging into my flesh just above the hem of my skirt. "You're too stiff," he murmured, his breath hot against my neck. "You need to loosen up."

I leaned back into him further, and for the first time, I felt his hard cock press against my ass through the thin fabric of my skirt. "Like this?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"Yeah," he said, his voice strained. "Just...like that."

He adjusted his stance, his legs bracketing mine, and I could feel his entire length pressed against me. "Now, when you swing," he continued, his hands still on my hips. "You need to pivot your back foot and rotate your hips. Like this." He guided me through the motion, his hands pushing my hips forward and then around, and I ground my ass back against him, slowly and deliberately.

"Oh," I gasped, feigning surprise. "I see."

I could feel him getting harder, his cock straining against his shorts, pushing between my cheeks. I pressed back against him again, this time with a little more pressure, and I felt him throb.

"Is that right?" I asked, looking back at him over my shoulder. "Am I doing it right?"

"Y-yeah," he stammered, his hands tightening on my hips. "You're a...you're a natural."

I could feel the wetness between my legs. I wanted him to touch me, to slip his hands under my skirt and feel how wet I was for him.

"Again," he said. "Let's do it again."

I swung the racket again, and as I pivoted, I ground my ass against him fully now, a slow, circular motion that took me from the base of his cock to the tip.

“Sometimes,” I said, my breath coming fast and hot now, my inhibitions far in the metaphorical rear-view mirror. I slowly slid my hands up my thighs, still gyrating my hips, until my fingers reached my pleated skirt. “I just wish someone would show me what to do…”

I continued to lift my hands, taking the skirt with me, slowly pulling it upward, revealing my thighs, my hips, my ass. Suddenly I was naked from the waist down, my body pressed against his.

“Like…” I was breathing heavily now. “Really showed me what to do, you know? Just…took charge of the situation…”

Behind me, I felt Matt pull down his shorts, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

I was going to get exactly what I deserved…

So it was last Wednesday, and as I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.

Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was sure I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.

Wrong.

Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.

I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.

Play in jeans? I thought.

No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.

Hmmm…

Maybe if I was really careful…

“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”

“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”

I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.

"Wanna serve first?" Matt called out from the other side of the net.

“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…

I needed to be very careful.

Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.

Shit.

The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.

“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. "Ready to play for real?" he asked with a grin.

I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.

This time, Matt's serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.

"Uh…nice shot," Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.

Fuck.

He knew.

I was sure of it.

We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…

And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn't going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.

“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.

Ah. So now he’d seen it.

He swallowed. “Match point.”

“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.

But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areaola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realising how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.

"Are you okay to keep playing?" Matt asked.

I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.

Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?

So embarrassing.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little–”

“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”

He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly. And it was at that moment that I realised I was enjoying this a little too much.

"Is everything okay over there?" I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.

“Uh huh,” I said.

We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.

Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what itn would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–

“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. "Oh, shit. It went under."

“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.

That’s when I realised; I'd have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.

The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him.

[As always, I’ll put part 2 on reddit if people are interested in hearing it!]

So it was last Wednesday, and as I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.

Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was sure I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.

Wrong.

Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.

I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.

Play in jeans? I thought.

No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.

Hmmm…

Maybe if I was really careful…

“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”

“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”

I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.

"Wanna serve first?" Matt called out from the other side of the net.

“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…

I needed to be very careful.

Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.

Shit.

The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.

“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. "Ready to play for real?" he asked with a grin.

I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.

This time, Matt's serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.

"Uh…nice shot," Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.

Fuck.

He knew.

I was sure of it.

We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…

And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn't going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.

“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.

Ah. So now he’d seen it.

He swallowed. “Match point.”

“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.

But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areaola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realising how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.

"Are you okay to keep playing?" Matt asked.

I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.

Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?

So embarrassing.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little–”

“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”

He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly. And it was at that moment that I realised I was enjoying this a little too much.

"Is everything okay over there?" I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.

“Uh huh,” I said.

We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.

Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what itn would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–

“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. "Oh, shit. It went under."

“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.

That’s when I realised; I'd have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.

The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him.

[As always, I’ll put part 2 on reddit if people are interested in hearing it!]

So it was last Wednesday, and as I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.

Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was sure I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.

Wrong.

Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.

I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.

Play in jeans? I thought.

No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.

Hmmm…

Maybe if I was really careful…

“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”

“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”

I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.

"Wanna serve first?" Matt called out from the other side of the net.

“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…

I needed to be very careful.

Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.

Shit.

The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.

“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. "Ready to play for real?" he asked with a grin.

I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.

This time, Matt's serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.

"Uh…nice shot," Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.

Fuck.

He knew.

I was sure of it.

We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…

And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn't going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.

“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.

Ah. So now he’d seen it.

He swallowed. “Match point.”

“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.

But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areaola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realising how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.

"Are you okay to keep playing?" Matt asked.

I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.

Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?

So embarrassing.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little–”

“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”

He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly. And it was at that moment that I realised I was enjoying this a little too much.

"Is everything okay over there?" I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.

“Uh huh,” I said.

We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.

Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what itn would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–

“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. "Oh, shit. It went under."

“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.

That’s when I realised; I'd have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.

The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him.

[As always, I’ll put part 2 on reddit if people are interested in hearing it!]

So it was last Wednesday, and as I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.

Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was sure I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.

Wrong.

Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.

I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.

Play in jeans? I thought.

No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.

Hmmm…

Maybe if I was really careful…

“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”

“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”

I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.

"Wanna serve first?" Matt called out from the other side of the net.

“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…

I needed to be very careful.

Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.

Shit.

The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.

“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. "Ready to play for real?" he asked with a grin.

I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.

This time, Matt's serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.

"Uh…nice shot," Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.

Fuck.

He knew.

I was sure of it.

We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…

And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn't going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.

“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.

Ah. So now he’d seen it.

He swallowed. “Match point.”

“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.

But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areaola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realising how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.

"Are you okay to keep playing?" Matt asked.

I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.

Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?

So embarrassing.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little–”

“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”

He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly. And it was at that moment that I realised I was enjoying this a little too much.

"Is everything okay over there?" I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.

“Uh huh,” I said.

We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.

Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what itn would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–

“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. "Oh, shit. It went under."

“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.

That’s when I realised; I'd have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.

The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him.

[As always, I’ll put part 2 on reddit if people are interested in hearing it!]

So it was last Wednesday, and as I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.

Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was sure I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.

Wrong.

Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.

I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.

Play in jeans? I thought.

No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.

Hmmm…

Maybe if I was really careful…

“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”

“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”

I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.

"Wanna serve first?" Matt called out from the other side of the net.

“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…

I needed to be very careful.

Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.

Shit.

The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.

“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. "Ready to play for real?" he asked with a grin.

I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.

This time, Matt's serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.

"Uh…nice shot," Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.

Fuck.

He knew.

I was sure of it.

We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…

And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn't going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.

“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.

Ah. So now he’d seen it.

He swallowed. “Match point.”

“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.

But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areaola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realising how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.

"Are you okay to keep playing?" Matt asked.

I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.

Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?

So embarrassing.

“Sarah?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little–”

“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”

He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly. And it was at that moment that I realised I was enjoying this a little too much.

"Is everything okay over there?" I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.

"Yeah, fine," he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.

“Uh huh,” I said.

We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.

Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what itn would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–

“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. "Oh, shit. It went under."

“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.

“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”

I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.

That’s when I realised; I'd have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.

The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him.

[As always, I’ll put part 2 on reddit if people are interested in hearing it!]

His eyes were wide, a mixture of disbelief and lust. He was completely still, as if any movement might break the spell and I'd suddenly come to my senses, pull my clothes back on, and pretend this never happened. But I wasn't going to pretend. Not anymore.

The promise was made, the game was all but won, and the throbbing between my own legs needed to be satiated.

With cock.

I shuffled the last few inches on my knees, the rough fibers of the rug a delicious friction against my skin. My breasts, heavy and freed from the lace, swayed with the movement, my nipples embarrassingly hard and taught.

I settled between his spread thighs once more, the heat radiating from his body. His cock was still right there, standing tall and proud and ready, and my mouth watered in the way that only other slutty and needy women would understand.

I didn't touch it with my hands. Not yet. I wanted to feel every sensation. The game still had fifteen minutes left, and I intended to make him hate/love every single one of them.

I leaned in slowly, giving him ample time to stop me, to push me away. But he didn't. He just watched, his breathing shallow and fast. I extended my tongue, and the very tip of it made contact.

My pussy, already slick and swollen, clenched hard. An embarrassingly needy moan escaped my lips. I flattened my tongue and slowly, so slowly, licked the tip again, moving my tongue around the head. His whole body shuddered, a deep, guttural groan rumbling in his chest.

"You promised," he whispered, his voice strained.

I looked up at him, my eyes hazy with desire. My lips were just an inch from his heated flesh.

"You haven’t won yet," I murmured, my breath on the wet head of his cock.

“It's three–nil…” he protested.

I smiled. “Don’t whine. It's unattractive.”

Then I closed the distance.

I pressed my lips against the very tip again; a soft, wet-lipped kiss. I held the kiss for a moment, feeling the heat sear into my lips. Then I opened my mouth just slightly and let my tongue touch it again. His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself just a fraction of an inch deeper into my mouth before he caught himself.

"Ah, fuck...Sarah," he breathed out, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. I could see the white of his knuckles. He was fighting for control, and I loved it.

I pulled back slightly, a thin string of my saliva connecting my lower lip to his cock head before breaking. I smiled up at him.

"Patience, please.”

I lowered my head again, but this I pressed my open mouth against the side of his shaft, about halfway down. I let my tongue explore the texture of his skin, the hard, rigid muscle just beneath it. I could feel that thick vein pulsing against my tongue, and I traced it with the tip, all the way down toward his balls. I was kissing and licking him and my own body was responding in kind, still tingling with how close I had been to cumming in front of my friend. My nipples ached, rubbing against the soft skin of my own breasts as I moved. I could feel a trickle of my own wetness escape my pussy and run down the inside of my thigh.

I took my time, mapping every inch of his cock with my tongue and lips. I nuzzled the soft skin of his balls and my saliva coated his skin, making it glisten in the dim light of the living room. The television was still on, and maybe he was still taking it in, but to me it was a distant roar that couldn't compete with my enjoyment of the task before me.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided it was time. I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation. I positioned myself directly over him again, my breasts resting on his thighs, my nipples against his skin. I looked up, locking my eyes with his one last time.

“I was just kidding about sucking your dick, by the way.”

I opened my mouth wide and slowly, deliberately, lowered my head, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I don’t know what it felt like for him, but for me, the sensation was overwhelming. The heat, the hardness, the feeling of having my mouth filled. I took him deeper, inch by inch, letting my lips slide down his shaft. I watched his face the entire time, watched his eyes roll back in his head and his mouth fall open in a silent scream.

I went down as far as I could, until the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. I paused there, trying not to gag, my nose nestled against his tummy. I held the position, letting him feel my mouth and throat, letting the anticipation build. I could feel his entire body trembling, the muscles in his thighs clenched like steel under my breasts. His cock was twitching inside my mouth, little spasms of pleasure.

Then, just as slowly, I pulled back up. I released him with a soft, wet 'pop', my lips glistening. A thick strand of saliva connected us for a moment before breaking and falling onto my chin. I didn't wipe it away. I just smiled.

I went down again, this time a little faster. I began to establish a rhythm, bobbing my head. I kept my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch and release with every movement. I could feel the tension building in him.

My own arousal was a fever pitch. The act of giving him this pleasure, of having this power over him, was the most intoxicating thing I had ever experienced. My pussy was soaking, aching to be touched, but I resisted. All my focus was on him, on the thick, hard cock in my mouth. I could feel my own juices coating my inner thighs, my clit throbbing in time with the bobbing of my head.

The commentary from the television suddenly grew louder, more excited. A roar from the crowd.

I pulled my mouth off his cock, leaving it wet and glistening. He groaned in frustration, a deep, pained sound. I looked up at him, my chest heaving, my lips swollen and wet.

"It’s nothing," he whispered. "Just a corner."

I leaned down and didn't take him back in my mouth. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and began to lap at his shaft like it was an ice cream cone, long, slow, broad strokes of my tongue from base to tip. I was deliberately avoiding the head, denying him that focused stimulation. I was teasing him, edging him, keeping him right on that precipice without letting him fall. His hands were in my hair now, not pushing or pulling, just tangled in the strands, holding on.

"Please, Sarah," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please..."

"Please what?" I asked, pausing my licking to look up at him. His face was a mask of desperate need. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Please... suck it again. Properly."

I smiled. "No."

I wrapped my lips around the head and began to suck, hard and fast, and his hips started to thrust up, fucking my mouth in short, sharp jerks. I could feel his cock swelling, getting even harder. I knew he was close.

The crowd on the television groaned in unison. "Oh, so close! A wasted opportunity! The defense scrambles it clear. That could have been the moment that brought them back into the game!"

I pulled my mouth away instantly.

"No!" he cried out, his whole body arching off the couch in protest. "Don't stop! I was so close!"

"Close to what?" I asked, my voice innocent. I watched as his cock, slick with my saliva, twitched and pulsed right on the brink.

“Sarah…” he groaned. “Fuck…”

When his breathing had evened out slightly, I leaned in again. "Okay," I whispered. "Let's try that again."

This time, I went back to the slow, deep rhythm. But this time I was no longer just using my mouth; I was using my whole body. I pressed my breasts harder against his thighs, letting him feel their soft weight. I arched my back, presenting my ass, knowing he could see the curve of it, the slickness on my thighs.

I built the pace slowly, incrementally. Each downward stroke was a little faster, each upward pull a little tighter. I was matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat, a primal, ancient drumbeat of desire. I could feel his control slipping again, and his hands in my hair tightened, his hips began to move more freely, meeting my strokes, thrusting into my mouth.

The game was entering its final minutes. The commentary was frantic. "Five minutes of added time announced! Five minutes for the losing side to find a miracle!"

I held up my hand, splaying my fingers, showing him the five, showing him that I intended to play them out, my mouth still full of his cock.

That’s when he started to fuck my mouth in earnest then, impatience and horniness taking over. His movements were powerful, dominating, and I let him take control. I relaxed my throat and let him use me, his cock driving deep. The sounds of my mouth being used were obscene, wet, and sloppy, and I was moaning continuously now.

I could feel it coming this time. The change in his breathing, the way his thighs began to shake uncontrollably, the frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock was impossibly hard, swelling to what felt like its maximum size inside my mouth.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," he gasped out.

I wanted to pull away, but I was too far gone, too horny, too much enjoying the sensation of being used. I reached up with one hand and gently cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm. With my other hand, I reached between my own legs and finally, finally, touched my aching clit. The contact was like a lightning strike. I cried out around his cock and started to cum instantly.

He exploded. His cock pulsed violently inside my mouth and I swallowed instinctively, my throat muscles milking him as he came again and again. I kept my lips sealed around him, taking everything he had to give, my own orgasm blurring my vision as I frantically rubbed my clit.

It was overwhelming; the tension of the game, the tension of our friendship, the tension of this incredible, forbidden act, all exploding at once.

Slowly, his body relaxed. His grip on my hair loosened, and he slumped back against the couch. I gently released his softening cock, pressing one last, soft kiss to the head before sitting back on my heels.

The final whistle blew on the television, a loud, triumphant sound.

They had won. 3-0.

The next game was even better…

His eyes were wide, a mixture of disbelief and lust. He was completely still, as if any movement might break the spell and I'd suddenly come to my senses, pull my clothes back on, and pretend this never happened. But I wasn't going to pretend. Not anymore.

The promise was made, the game was all but won, and the throbbing between my own legs needed to be satiated.

With cock.

I shuffled the last few inches on my knees, the rough fibers of the rug a delicious friction against my skin. My breasts, heavy and freed from the lace, swayed with the movement, my nipples embarrassingly hard and taught.

I settled between his spread thighs once more, the heat radiating from his body. His cock was still right there, standing tall and proud and ready, and my mouth watered in the way that only other slutty and needy women would understand.

I didn't touch it with my hands. Not yet. I wanted to feel every sensation. The game still had fifteen minutes left, and I intended to make him hate/love every single one of them.

I leaned in slowly, giving him ample time to stop me, to push me away. But he didn't. He just watched, his breathing shallow and fast. I extended my tongue, and the very tip of it made contact.

My pussy, already slick and swollen, clenched hard. An embarrassingly needy moan escaped my lips. I flattened my tongue and slowly, so slowly, licked the tip again, moving my tongue around the head. His whole body shuddered, a deep, guttural groan rumbling in his chest.

"You promised," he whispered, his voice strained.

I looked up at him, my eyes hazy with desire. My lips were just an inch from his heated flesh.

"You haven’t won yet," I murmured, my breath on the wet head of his cock.

“It's three–nil…” he protested.

I smiled. “Don’t whine. It's unattractive.”

Then I closed the distance.

I pressed my lips against the very tip again; a soft, wet-lipped kiss. I held the kiss for a moment, feeling the heat sear into my lips. Then I opened my mouth just slightly and let my tongue touch it again. His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself just a fraction of an inch deeper into my mouth before he caught himself.

"Ah, fuck...Sarah," he breathed out, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. I could see the white of his knuckles. He was fighting for control, and I loved it.

I pulled back slightly, a thin string of my saliva connecting my lower lip to his cock head before breaking. I smiled up at him.

"Patience, please.”

I lowered my head again, but this I pressed my open mouth against the side of his shaft, about halfway down. I let my tongue explore the texture of his skin, the hard, rigid muscle just beneath it. I could feel that thick vein pulsing against my tongue, and I traced it with the tip, all the way down toward his balls. I was kissing and licking him and my own body was responding in kind, still tingling with how close I had been to cumming in front of my friend. My nipples ached, rubbing against the soft skin of my own breasts as I moved. I could feel a trickle of my own wetness escape my pussy and run down the inside of my thigh.

I took my time, mapping every inch of his cock with my tongue and lips. I nuzzled the soft skin of his balls and my saliva coated his skin, making it glisten in the dim light of the living room. The television was still on, and maybe he was still taking it in, but to me it was a distant roar that couldn't compete with my enjoyment of the task before me.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided it was time. I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation. I positioned myself directly over him again, my breasts resting on his thighs, my nipples against his skin. I looked up, locking my eyes with his one last time.

“I was just kidding about sucking your dick, by the way.”

I opened my mouth wide and slowly, deliberately, lowered my head, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I don’t know what it felt like for him, but for me, the sensation was overwhelming. The heat, the hardness, the feeling of having my mouth filled. I took him deeper, inch by inch, letting my lips slide down his shaft. I watched his face the entire time, watched his eyes roll back in his head and his mouth fall open in a silent scream.

I went down as far as I could, until the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. I paused there, trying not to gag, my nose nestled against his tummy. I held the position, letting him feel my mouth and throat, letting the anticipation build. I could feel his entire body trembling, the muscles in his thighs clenched like steel under my breasts. His cock was twitching inside my mouth, little spasms of pleasure.

Then, just as slowly, I pulled back up. I released him with a soft, wet 'pop', my lips glistening. A thick strand of saliva connected us for a moment before breaking and falling onto my chin. I didn't wipe it away. I just smiled.

I went down again, this time a little faster. I began to establish a rhythm, bobbing my head. I kept my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch and release with every movement. I could feel the tension building in him.

My own arousal was a fever pitch. The act of giving him this pleasure, of having this power over him, was the most intoxicating thing I had ever experienced. My pussy was soaking, aching to be touched, but I resisted. All my focus was on him, on the thick, hard cock in my mouth. I could feel my own juices coating my inner thighs, my clit throbbing in time with the bobbing of my head.

The commentary from the television suddenly grew louder, more excited. A roar from the crowd.

I pulled my mouth off his cock, leaving it wet and glistening. He groaned in frustration, a deep, pained sound. I looked up at him, my chest heaving, my lips swollen and wet.

"It’s nothing," he whispered. "Just a corner."

I leaned down and didn't take him back in my mouth. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and began to lap at his shaft like it was an ice cream cone, long, slow, broad strokes of my tongue from base to tip. I was deliberately avoiding the head, denying him that focused stimulation. I was teasing him, edging him, keeping him right on that precipice without letting him fall. His hands were in my hair now, not pushing or pulling, just tangled in the strands, holding on.

"Please, Sarah," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please..."

"Please what?" I asked, pausing my licking to look up at him. His face was a mask of desperate need. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Please... suck it again. Properly."

I smiled. "No."

I wrapped my lips around the head and began to suck, hard and fast, and his hips started to thrust up, fucking my mouth in short, sharp jerks. I could feel his cock swelling, getting even harder. I knew he was close.

The crowd on the television groaned in unison. "Oh, so close! A wasted opportunity! The defense scrambles it clear. That could have been the moment that brought them back into the game!"

I pulled my mouth away instantly.

"No!" he cried out, his whole body arching off the couch in protest. "Don't stop! I was so close!"

"Close to what?" I asked, my voice innocent. I watched as his cock, slick with my saliva, twitched and pulsed right on the brink.

“Sarah…” he groaned. “Fuck…”

When his breathing had evened out slightly, I leaned in again. "Okay," I whispered. "Let's try that again."

This time, I went back to the slow, deep rhythm. But this time I was no longer just using my mouth; I was using my whole body. I pressed my breasts harder against his thighs, letting him feel their soft weight. I arched my back, presenting my ass, knowing he could see the curve of it, the slickness on my thighs.

I built the pace slowly, incrementally. Each downward stroke was a little faster, each upward pull a little tighter. I was matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat, a primal, ancient drumbeat of desire. I could feel his control slipping again, and his hands in my hair tightened, his hips began to move more freely, meeting my strokes, thrusting into my mouth.

The game was entering its final minutes. The commentary was frantic. "Five minutes of added time announced! Five minutes for the losing side to find a miracle!"

I held up my hand, splaying my fingers, showing him the five, showing him that I intended to play them out, my mouth still full of his cock.

That’s when he started to fuck my mouth in earnest then, impatience and horniness taking over. His movements were powerful, dominating, and I let him take control. I relaxed my throat and let him use me, his cock driving deep. The sounds of my mouth being used were obscene, wet, and sloppy, and I was moaning continuously now.

I could feel it coming this time. The change in his breathing, the way his thighs began to shake uncontrollably, the frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock was impossibly hard, swelling to what felt like its maximum size inside my mouth.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," he gasped out.

I wanted to pull away, but I was too far gone, too horny, too much enjoying the sensation of being used. I reached up with one hand and gently cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm. With my other hand, I reached between my own legs and finally, finally, touched my aching clit. The contact was like a lightning strike. I cried out around his cock and started to cum instantly.

He exploded. His cock pulsed violently inside my mouth and I swallowed instinctively, my throat muscles milking him as he came again and again. I kept my lips sealed around him, taking everything he had to give, my own orgasm blurring my vision as I frantically rubbed my clit.

It was overwhelming; the tension of the game, the tension of our friendship, the tension of this incredible, forbidden act, all exploding at once.

Slowly, his body relaxed. His grip on my hair loosened, and he slumped back against the couch. I gently released his softening cock, pressing one last, soft kiss to the head before sitting back on my heels.

The final whistle blew on the television, a loud, triumphant sound.

They had won. 3-0.

The next game was even better…

His eyes were wide, a mixture of disbelief and lust. He was completely still, as if any movement might break the spell and I'd suddenly come to my senses, pull my clothes back on, and pretend this never happened. But I wasn't going to pretend. Not anymore.

The promise was made, the game was all but won, and the throbbing between my own legs needed to be satiated.

With cock.

I shuffled the last few inches on my knees, the rough fibers of the rug a delicious friction against my skin. My breasts, heavy and freed from the lace, swayed with the movement, my nipples embarrassingly hard and taught.

I settled between his spread thighs once more, the heat radiating from his body. His cock was still right there, standing tall and proud and ready, and my mouth watered in the way that only other slutty and needy women would understand.

I didn't touch it with my hands. Not yet. I wanted to feel every sensation. The game still had fifteen minutes left, and I intended to make him hate/love every single one of them.

I leaned in slowly, giving him ample time to stop me, to push me away. But he didn't. He just watched, his breathing shallow and fast. I extended my tongue, and the very tip of it made contact.

My pussy, already slick and swollen, clenched hard. An embarrassingly needy moan escaped my lips. I flattened my tongue and slowly, so slowly, licked the tip again, moving my tongue around the head. His whole body shuddered, a deep, guttural groan rumbling in his chest.

"You promised," he whispered, his voice strained.

I looked up at him, my eyes hazy with desire. My lips were just an inch from his heated flesh.

"You haven’t won yet," I murmured, my breath on the wet head of his cock.

“It's three–nil…” he protested.

I smiled. “Don’t whine. It's unattractive.”

Then I closed the distance.

I pressed my lips against the very tip again; a soft, wet-lipped kiss. I held the kiss for a moment, feeling the heat sear into my lips. Then I opened my mouth just slightly and let my tongue touch it again. His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself just a fraction of an inch deeper into my mouth before he caught himself.

"Ah, fuck...Sarah," he breathed out, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. I could see the white of his knuckles. He was fighting for control, and I loved it.

I pulled back slightly, a thin string of my saliva connecting my lower lip to his cock head before breaking. I smiled up at him.

"Patience, please.”

I lowered my head again, but this I pressed my open mouth against the side of his shaft, about halfway down. I let my tongue explore the texture of his skin, the hard, rigid muscle just beneath it. I could feel that thick vein pulsing against my tongue, and I traced it with the tip, all the way down toward his balls. I was kissing and licking him and my own body was responding in kind, still tingling with how close I had been to cumming in front of my friend. My nipples ached, rubbing against the soft skin of my own breasts as I moved. I could feel a trickle of my own wetness escape my pussy and run down the inside of my thigh.

I took my time, mapping every inch of his cock with my tongue and lips. I nuzzled the soft skin of his balls and my saliva coated his skin, making it glisten in the dim light of the living room. The television was still on, and maybe he was still taking it in, but to me it was a distant roar that couldn't compete with my enjoyment of the task before me.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided it was time. I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation. I positioned myself directly over him again, my breasts resting on his thighs, my nipples against his skin. I looked up, locking my eyes with his one last time.

“I was just kidding about sucking your dick, by the way.”

I opened my mouth wide and slowly, deliberately, lowered my head, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I don’t know what it felt like for him, but for me, the sensation was overwhelming. The heat, the hardness, the feeling of having my mouth filled. I took him deeper, inch by inch, letting my lips slide down his shaft. I watched his face the entire time, watched his eyes roll back in his head and his mouth fall open in a silent scream.

I went down as far as I could, until the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. I paused there, trying not to gag, my nose nestled against his tummy. I held the position, letting him feel my mouth and throat, letting the anticipation build. I could feel his entire body trembling, the muscles in his thighs clenched like steel under my breasts. His cock was twitching inside my mouth, little spasms of pleasure.

Then, just as slowly, I pulled back up. I released him with a soft, wet 'pop', my lips glistening. A thick strand of saliva connected us for a moment before breaking and falling onto my chin. I didn't wipe it away. I just smiled.

I went down again, this time a little faster. I began to establish a rhythm, bobbing my head. I kept my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch and release with every movement. I could feel the tension building in him.

My own arousal was a fever pitch. The act of giving him this pleasure, of having this power over him, was the most intoxicating thing I had ever experienced. My pussy was soaking, aching to be touched, but I resisted. All my focus was on him, on the thick, hard cock in my mouth. I could feel my own juices coating my inner thighs, my clit throbbing in time with the bobbing of my head.

The commentary from the television suddenly grew louder, more excited. A roar from the crowd.

I pulled my mouth off his cock, leaving it wet and glistening. He groaned in frustration, a deep, pained sound. I looked up at him, my chest heaving, my lips swollen and wet.

"It’s nothing," he whispered. "Just a corner."

I leaned down and didn't take him back in my mouth. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and began to lap at his shaft like it was an ice cream cone, long, slow, broad strokes of my tongue from base to tip. I was deliberately avoiding the head, denying him that focused stimulation. I was teasing him, edging him, keeping him right on that precipice without letting him fall. His hands were in my hair now, not pushing or pulling, just tangled in the strands, holding on.

"Please, Sarah," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please..."

"Please what?" I asked, pausing my licking to look up at him. His face was a mask of desperate need. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Please... suck it again. Properly."

I smiled. "No."

I wrapped my lips around the head and began to suck, hard and fast, and his hips started to thrust up, fucking my mouth in short, sharp jerks. I could feel his cock swelling, getting even harder. I knew he was close.

The crowd on the television groaned in unison. "Oh, so close! A wasted opportunity! The defense scrambles it clear. That could have been the moment that brought them back into the game!"

I pulled my mouth away instantly.

"No!" he cried out, his whole body arching off the couch in protest. "Don't stop! I was so close!"

"Close to what?" I asked, my voice innocent. I watched as his cock, slick with my saliva, twitched and pulsed right on the brink.

“Sarah…” he groaned. “Fuck…”

When his breathing had evened out slightly, I leaned in again. "Okay," I whispered. "Let's try that again."

This time, I went back to the slow, deep rhythm. But this time I was no longer just using my mouth; I was using my whole body. I pressed my breasts harder against his thighs, letting him feel their soft weight. I arched my back, presenting my ass, knowing he could see the curve of it, the slickness on my thighs.

I built the pace slowly, incrementally. Each downward stroke was a little faster, each upward pull a little tighter. I was matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat, a primal, ancient drumbeat of desire. I could feel his control slipping again, and his hands in my hair tightened, his hips began to move more freely, meeting my strokes, thrusting into my mouth.

The game was entering its final minutes. The commentary was frantic. "Five minutes of added time announced! Five minutes for the losing side to find a miracle!"

I held up my hand, splaying my fingers, showing him the five, showing him that I intended to play them out, my mouth still full of his cock.

That’s when he started to fuck my mouth in earnest then, impatience and horniness taking over. His movements were powerful, dominating, and I let him take control. I relaxed my throat and let him use me, his cock driving deep. The sounds of my mouth being used were obscene, wet, and sloppy, and I was moaning continuously now.

I could feel it coming this time. The change in his breathing, the way his thighs began to shake uncontrollably, the frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock was impossibly hard, swelling to what felt like its maximum size inside my mouth.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," he gasped out.

I wanted to pull away, but I was too far gone, too horny, too much enjoying the sensation of being used. I reached up with one hand and gently cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm. With my other hand, I reached between my own legs and finally, finally, touched my aching clit. The contact was like a lightning strike. I cried out around his cock and started to cum instantly.

He exploded. His cock pulsed violently inside my mouth and I swallowed instinctively, my throat muscles milking him as he came again and again. I kept my lips sealed around him, taking everything he had to give, my own orgasm blurring my vision as I frantically rubbed my clit.

It was overwhelming; the tension of the game, the tension of our friendship, the tension of this incredible, forbidden act, all exploding at once.

Slowly, his body relaxed. His grip on my hair loosened, and he slumped back against the couch. I gently released his softening cock, pressing one last, soft kiss to the head before sitting back on my heels.

The final whistle blew on the television, a loud, triumphant sound.

They had won. 3-0.

The next game was even better…

His eyes were wide, a mixture of disbelief and lust. He was completely still, as if any movement might break the spell and I'd suddenly come to my senses, pull my clothes back on, and pretend this never happened. But I wasn't going to pretend. Not anymore.

The promise was made, the game was all but won, and the throbbing between my own legs needed to be satiated.

With cock.

I shuffled the last few inches on my knees, the rough fibers of the rug a delicious friction against my skin. My breasts, heavy and freed from the lace, swayed with the movement, my nipples embarrassingly hard and taught.

I settled between his spread thighs once more, the heat radiating from his body. His cock was still right there, standing tall and proud and ready, and my mouth watered in the way that only other slutty and needy women would understand.

I didn't touch it with my hands. Not yet. I wanted to feel every sensation. The game still had fifteen minutes left, and I intended to make him hate/love every single one of them.

I leaned in slowly, giving him ample time to stop me, to push me away. But he didn't. He just watched, his breathing shallow and fast. I extended my tongue, and the very tip of it made contact.

My pussy, already slick and swollen, clenched hard. An embarrassingly needy moan escaped my lips. I flattened my tongue and slowly, so slowly, licked the tip again, moving my tongue around the head. His whole body shuddered, a deep, guttural groan rumbling in his chest.

"You promised," he whispered, his voice strained.

I looked up at him, my eyes hazy with desire. My lips were just an inch from his heated flesh.

"You haven’t won yet," I murmured, my breath on the wet head of his cock.

“It's three–nil…” he protested.

I smiled. “Don’t whine. It's unattractive.”

Then I closed the distance.

I pressed my lips against the very tip again; a soft, wet-lipped kiss. I held the kiss for a moment, feeling the heat sear into my lips. Then I opened my mouth just slightly and let my tongue touch it again. His hips bucked involuntarily, pushing himself just a fraction of an inch deeper into my mouth before he caught himself.

"Ah, fuck...Sarah," he breathed out, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. I could see the white of his knuckles. He was fighting for control, and I loved it.

I pulled back slightly, a thin string of my saliva connecting my lower lip to his cock head before breaking. I smiled up at him.

"Patience, please.”

I lowered my head again, but this I pressed my open mouth against the side of his shaft, about halfway down. I let my tongue explore the texture of his skin, the hard, rigid muscle just beneath it. I could feel that thick vein pulsing against my tongue, and I traced it with the tip, all the way down toward his balls. I was kissing and licking him and my own body was responding in kind, still tingling with how close I had been to cumming in front of my friend. My nipples ached, rubbing against the soft skin of my own breasts as I moved. I could feel a trickle of my own wetness escape my pussy and run down the inside of my thigh.

I took my time, mapping every inch of his cock with my tongue and lips. I nuzzled the soft skin of his balls and my saliva coated his skin, making it glisten in the dim light of the living room. The television was still on, and maybe he was still taking it in, but to me it was a distant roar that couldn't compete with my enjoyment of the task before me.

After what felt like an eternity, I finally decided it was time. I was as ready as I was ever going to be, and he was practically vibrating with anticipation. I positioned myself directly over him again, my breasts resting on his thighs, my nipples against his skin. I looked up, locking my eyes with his one last time.

“I was just kidding about sucking your dick, by the way.”

I opened my mouth wide and slowly, deliberately, lowered my head, taking the head of his cock into my mouth. I don’t know what it felt like for him, but for me, the sensation was overwhelming. The heat, the hardness, the feeling of having my mouth filled. I took him deeper, inch by inch, letting my lips slide down his shaft. I watched his face the entire time, watched his eyes roll back in his head and his mouth fall open in a silent scream.

I went down as far as I could, until the head of his cock nudged the back of my throat. I paused there, trying not to gag, my nose nestled against his tummy. I held the position, letting him feel my mouth and throat, letting the anticipation build. I could feel his entire body trembling, the muscles in his thighs clenched like steel under my breasts. His cock was twitching inside my mouth, little spasms of pleasure.

Then, just as slowly, I pulled back up. I released him with a soft, wet 'pop', my lips glistening. A thick strand of saliva connected us for a moment before breaking and falling onto my chin. I didn't wipe it away. I just smiled.

I went down again, this time a little faster. I began to establish a rhythm, bobbing my head. I kept my hands on his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch and release with every movement. I could feel the tension building in him.

My own arousal was a fever pitch. The act of giving him this pleasure, of having this power over him, was the most intoxicating thing I had ever experienced. My pussy was soaking, aching to be touched, but I resisted. All my focus was on him, on the thick, hard cock in my mouth. I could feel my own juices coating my inner thighs, my clit throbbing in time with the bobbing of my head.

The commentary from the television suddenly grew louder, more excited. A roar from the crowd.

I pulled my mouth off his cock, leaving it wet and glistening. He groaned in frustration, a deep, pained sound. I looked up at him, my chest heaving, my lips swollen and wet.

"It’s nothing," he whispered. "Just a corner."

I leaned down and didn't take him back in my mouth. Instead, I stuck out my tongue and began to lap at his shaft like it was an ice cream cone, long, slow, broad strokes of my tongue from base to tip. I was deliberately avoiding the head, denying him that focused stimulation. I was teasing him, edging him, keeping him right on that precipice without letting him fall. His hands were in my hair now, not pushing or pulling, just tangled in the strands, holding on.

"Please, Sarah," he begged, his voice breaking. "Please..."

"Please what?" I asked, pausing my licking to look up at him. His face was a mask of desperate need. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

"Please... suck it again. Properly."

I smiled. "No."

I wrapped my lips around the head and began to suck, hard and fast, and his hips started to thrust up, fucking my mouth in short, sharp jerks. I could feel his cock swelling, getting even harder. I knew he was close.

The crowd on the television groaned in unison. "Oh, so close! A wasted opportunity! The defense scrambles it clear. That could have been the moment that brought them back into the game!"

I pulled my mouth away instantly.

"No!" he cried out, his whole body arching off the couch in protest. "Don't stop! I was so close!"

"Close to what?" I asked, my voice innocent. I watched as his cock, slick with my saliva, twitched and pulsed right on the brink.

“Sarah…” he groaned. “Fuck…”

When his breathing had evened out slightly, I leaned in again. "Okay," I whispered. "Let's try that again."

This time, I went back to the slow, deep rhythm. But this time I was no longer just using my mouth; I was using my whole body. I pressed my breasts harder against his thighs, letting him feel their soft weight. I arched my back, presenting my ass, knowing he could see the curve of it, the slickness on my thighs.

I built the pace slowly, incrementally. Each downward stroke was a little faster, each upward pull a little tighter. I was matching the rhythm of my own heartbeat, a primal, ancient drumbeat of desire. I could feel his control slipping again, and his hands in my hair tightened, his hips began to move more freely, meeting my strokes, thrusting into my mouth.

The game was entering its final minutes. The commentary was frantic. "Five minutes of added time announced! Five minutes for the losing side to find a miracle!"

I held up my hand, splaying my fingers, showing him the five, showing him that I intended to play them out, my mouth still full of his cock.

That’s when he started to fuck my mouth in earnest then, impatience and horniness taking over. His movements were powerful, dominating, and I let him take control. I relaxed my throat and let him use me, his cock driving deep. The sounds of my mouth being used were obscene, wet, and sloppy, and I was moaning continuously now.

I could feel it coming this time. The change in his breathing, the way his thighs began to shake uncontrollably, the frantic, desperate thrusts. His cock was impossibly hard, swelling to what felt like its maximum size inside my mouth.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna cum," he gasped out.

I wanted to pull away, but I was too far gone, too horny, too much enjoying the sensation of being used. I reached up with one hand and gently cupped his balls, rolling them in my palm. With my other hand, I reached between my own legs and finally, finally, touched my aching clit. The contact was like a lightning strike. I cried out around his cock and started to cum instantly.

He exploded. His cock pulsed violently inside my mouth and I swallowed instinctively, my throat muscles milking him as he came again and again. I kept my lips sealed around him, taking everything he had to give, my own orgasm blurring my vision as I frantically rubbed my clit.

It was overwhelming; the tension of the game, the tension of our friendship, the tension of this incredible, forbidden act, all exploding at once.

Slowly, his body relaxed. His grip on my hair loosened, and he slumped back against the couch. I gently released his softening cock, pressing one last, soft kiss to the head before sitting back on my heels.

The final whistle blew on the television, a loud, triumphant sound.

They had won. 3-0.

The next game was even better…

“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”

“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”

“You promise?”

I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”

“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”

I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.

It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.

When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.

“You might as well start now,” he laughed.

“Start what?”

“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.

“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”

But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.

He was hard.

I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.

But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.

I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend's hard cock twitched.

Fuck.

Was that really because of me?

I needed to test the theory.

I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…

He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn't until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.

“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“It’s…it's looking really good, yeah…”

“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”

I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.

He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”

I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.

Fuck.

“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”

But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.

"You're just lucky your team's winning," I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”

He didn't respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.

I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.

“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.

He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”

“Then I guess we have some time…”

“For what?”

I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.

Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.

“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.

“We’re still winning,” he said.

I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.

I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.

Fuck it.

I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.

Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a "stunning strike from thirty yards!" His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.

Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn't matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.

It was time.

[Like I always say, I’ll post some more of what happened if people are enjoying!]

“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”

“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”

“You promise?”

I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”

“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”

I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.

It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.

When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.

“You might as well start now,” he laughed.

“Start what?”

“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.

“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”

But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.

He was hard.

I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.

But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.

I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend's hard cock twitched.

Fuck.

Was that really because of me?

I needed to test the theory.

I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…

He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn't until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.

“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“It’s…it's looking really good, yeah…”

“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”

I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.

He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”

I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.

Fuck.

“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”

But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.

"You're just lucky your team's winning," I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”

He didn't respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.

I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.

“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.

He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”

“Then I guess we have some time…”

“For what?”

I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.

Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.

“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.

“We’re still winning,” he said.

I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.

I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.

Fuck it.

I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.

Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a "stunning strike from thirty yards!" His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.

Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn't matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.

It was time.

[Like I always say, I’ll post some more of what happened if people are enjoying!]

“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”

“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”

“You promise?”

I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”

“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”

I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.

It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.

When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.

“You might as well start now,” he laughed.

“Start what?”

“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.

“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”

But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.

He was hard.

I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.

But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.

I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend's hard cock twitched.

Fuck.

Was that really because of me?

I needed to test the theory.

I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…

He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn't until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.

“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“It’s…it's looking really good, yeah…”

“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”

I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.

He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”

I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.

Fuck.

“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”

But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.

"You're just lucky your team's winning," I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”

He didn't respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.

I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.

“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.

He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”

“Then I guess we have some time…”

“For what?”

I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.

Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.

“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.

“We’re still winning,” he said.

I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.

I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.

Fuck it.

I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.

Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a "stunning strike from thirty yards!" His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.

Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn't matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.

It was time.

[Like I always say, I’ll post some more of what happened if people are enjoying!]

“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”

“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”

“You promise?”

I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”

“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”

I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.

It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.

When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.

“You might as well start now,” he laughed.

“Start what?”

“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.

“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”

But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.

He was hard.

I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.

But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.

I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend's hard cock twitched.

Fuck.

Was that really because of me?

I needed to test the theory.

I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…

He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn't until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.

“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“It’s…it's looking really good, yeah…”

“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”

I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.

He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”

I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.

Fuck.

“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”

But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.

"You're just lucky your team's winning," I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”

He didn't respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.

I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.

“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.

He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”

“Then I guess we have some time…”

“For what?”

I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.

Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.

“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.

“We’re still winning,” he said.

I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.

I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.

Fuck it.

I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.

Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a "stunning strike from thirty yards!" His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.

Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn't matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.

It was time.

[Like I always say, I’ll post some more of what happened if people are enjoying!]

“What, really?” he said from the other end of the couch, raising his eyebrow in response to my joke. “You’ll suck it if we win?”

“Sure,” I laughed, putting my feet up on the coffee table. I was just joking, of course. We’d always been like that; making jokes and being silly. That’s just what friends did. Anyway, the team might have been winning, but we were ranked one of the lowest in the entire World Cup, and I’d seen enough games to realise how quickly things could change. “Why the hell not?”

“You promise?”

I stared at him, a little surprised at how serious he looked, but once again I realised he was joking. I mean…we were friends. “Sure,” I said. “I promise. If we win I’ll get down on my knees and–”

“Wooo!” he shouted, standing up and punching the air as the opposing keeper let the ball into the net. “What a goal!”

I don’t know much about football, but in the multiple replays that followed, I had to admit that the way the ball curved through the air and seemed to weave its way through a wall of players was very satisfying to watch.

It was the 58th minute now, and his team were 2-0 up.

When he had stopped jumping up and down, he flopped back onto the couch and looked at me.

“You might as well start now,” he laughed.

“Start what?”

“You know…” he said, opening his legs slightly and nodding toward his crotch.

“Yeah right,” I laughed, rolling my eyes and turning back to the game. “You wish.”

But from the corner of my eyes, I noticed something.

He was hard.

I don’t know if it was the excitement of the game, or maybe it was because of what we had just been talking about, but either way it was kind of obvious; a thick rod of muscle pressed against the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

I’d never thought of him like that before. He was my friend, and I had never even considered how it might make me feel to see him…like that.

But whatever. I wasn’t actually going to do anything.

I turned back to the game. The players were running down the pitch. A defender tackled and took possession of the ball, and the momentum shifted, the ball moving the other way. Someone kicked it out and it went to a throw in. From the side of my eye, my friend's hard cock twitched.

Fuck.

Was that really because of me?

I needed to test the theory.

I sat forward and straightened my back, pushing my breasts out while I stretched, my nipples hard and visible due to the thoughts I was having. I slipped my hair-tie off my wrist and used it to put my hair back in a pony-tail. I told myself the latter action was for comfort only, but I knew what I was looking for, and sure enough I got my confirmation…

He was pretending not to watch me, but during my little performance his cock twitched three separate times, and it wasn't until I noticed I’d been licking my lips that I realised I wanted it.

“So…” I said. “You really think you’re gonna win, huh?”

“It’s…it's looking really good, yeah…”

“Well…in that case…we might as well get started, right?”

I slipped off the coach and knelt on the rug, the fibers pressing into my knees. His sweatpants were still tented, that thick ridge of muscle straining against the soft gray fabric.

He recoiled slightly. “You’re joking, right?”

“Yup,” I said, shuffling toward him and licking my lips. “I’m just joking.”

I reached forward and hooked my fingers into the waistband of his pants. He jumped again but offered no resistance, his skin warm as I slowly pulled his sweatpants down, inch by inch. The television blared with commentary, but the sound faded into the background as we both watched his hard cock appear before us.

Fuck.

“Sarah…” he whispered. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” I said, acting offended as I lifted my T-shirt up over my head, my breasts bouncing from the movements, my white lace bra barely containing them. “Just watch the game!”

But I didn’t need to look up at him to know he was watching me now; the way my boobs barely fit between his legs, the way I was licking my lips inches from his cock.

"You're just lucky your team's winning," I teased, leaning closer and breathing on it. “It could change at any minute…”

He didn't respond, just watched as I slowly lowered my head.

I placed a gentle kiss on the shaft of it and felt my pussy twitch.

“Are you…are you sure you want to do this?” he asked.

“Do what?” I asked, extending my wet tongue and licking him from base to tip. His body reacted instantly and so did mine, my nipples hardening and my panties getting wetter. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Anyway. How long does the game have left?” I asked, looking up at him from between his legs, my voice a little breathless, my lips wet.

He swallowed. “Around 30 minutes…”

“Then I guess we have some time…”

“For what?”

I looked up at him again, smiling. I held his gaze for a moment longer before planting another kiss on his cock, quickly this time. I moved away from it and shuffled backward, leaning back on my elbows and opening my legs, showing him my white lace panties beneath my light summer skirt.

“Nothing,” I shrugged, pushing my breasts together and feeling the thrill in my body as his eyes went wide at the sight of me. I wondered if my panties looked as soaked as they felt.

Either way, his eyes were glued to my body, and I could feel the fabric clinging to my smooth, swollen lips. The commentators droned on, but the game was forgotten, just background noise as I slowly reached down and hooked my fingers into the lace, pulling it aside. I saw him swallow again as my bare pussy was exposed to him. It was completely smooth, and I knew he could see how wet and ready I was, my lips already puffy and parted.

“What’s the score now?” I whispered. He opened his mouth to answer but I allowed my middle finger to drift down, tracing the line of my pussy before dipping inside just enough to coat it. I brought the glistening finger up to my mouth and slowly sucked it clean, never breaking eye contact with him. His cock twitched again.

“We’re still winning,” he said.

I nodded, moaning slightly and closing my eyes in pleasure, my hand returning between my legs, my fingers spreading me slightly more, my legs opening wider. My other hand came up to my chest, roughly squeezing my huge tits through the lace of my bra. I pinched my nipple, moaning as I began to rub my clit in earnest. I was putting on a show just for him, my hips grinding against my own hand as I built up the rhythm. My breasts jiggled with every movement of my arm, the soft flesh spilling out of the cups of my bra.

I was completely exposed, masturbating right in front of him while his hard cock throbbed, neglected and desperate for attention.

Fuck it.

I unclasped my bra with one hand, my huge tits spilling out, the nipples so hard they ached. I pinched one, then the other. I couldn’t believe what I was doing, my pussy was dripping as I imagined him grabbing me, throwing me down, and fucking me right here on the rug. I realised I was kind of a mess, writhing on the floor, my legs spread wide, my massive breasts heaving with every desperate gasp for air.

Just as I was about to cum, a deafening roar erupted from the television. The crowd went wild, the commentator screaming about a "stunning strike from thirty yards!" His team had scored again. They were winning 3-0.

Fuck. Suddenly, my own pleasure didn't matter anymore. I pulled my fingers from my twitching pussy and, without a second thought, shuffled forward on my knees, enjoying the look of fear and excitement on his face, both of us knowing what was about to happen.

It was time.

[Like I always say, I’ll post some more of what happened if people are enjoying!]

I rocked back on knees and unbuttoned the top of my blouse, giving him a view of my cleavage. Once completed, I pushed them together and looked up at him, feeling my own eyes widen at the sight before me.

He looked obscene. His back to the door, dressed in his full work garb; pressed pants, button down shirt, maroon tie. You could have been forgiven for thinking he looked normal, all except for the huge throbbing cock sticking out and upward from the front of his pants. The veins were throbbing, and I licked my lips again, this time instinctively.

I reached out and took him in my hand for the first time, his naked cock pulsing in my palm.

"I’m going to make you feel really good," I whispered, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. "Is that okay?"

He nodded, his breath coming in short pants already as I slowly stroked him, my delicate fingers and French manicured fingertips exploring his length.

"Good," I said softly, leaning closer until my lips were just inches from him, close enough that he would definitely be able to feel my breath on his cock. "Because I really want to make you feel better."

With that, I extended my tongue and gently licked the tip of his cock. His reaction sent an immediate thrill through me. Tom let out a groan, his hands clenching into fists at his sides, his hips thrusting slightly, as if he were trying to fuck my mouth already. I pulled back from him.

"Does that feel good?" I asked.

"Fuck, Sarah," he managed, his voice strained. "Do it again…"

I smiled to myself, pleased with his reaction. Taking my time, I began to kiss my way down his shaft, my lips soft against his heated skin. When I reached his balls, I gently took them in my hands, massaging them softly as I continued to kiss his cock, leaving faint little lipstick imprints on him.

"Jesus," Tom breathed, his hips beginning to move slightly. "I can't believe this is happening."

I pulled back, releasing him and looking up again. "Do you want me to stop?" I asked, knowing full well he didn't.

"No," he said quickly. "God, no."

"Good," I said with a playful smile. "Because I was just getting started."

I took him into my mouth at last, wrapped my wet lips around the head of his cock. I was hungry for him now, hungry to feel myself filled with him, but I forced myself to go slowly, just the tip, my tongue moving around him slowly as I gradually took more of him in.

And then I stopped.

Holding him there. Warm. Wet. Unmoving.

“Mmhmfph,” he said. “What…mmm...oh fuck…what are you doing?”

But I didn't respond. How could I, when my mouth was filled with his cock?

“Sarah?” he said, his voice increasingly desperate. “We can’t stay in here all day, I need to–oh fuck.”

I began to move in earnest, establishing a rhythm, my head bobbing up and down as my hand worked in tandem with my mouth. Tom's breathing grew heavier instantly, his hips thrusting harder as he lost himself in the sensation.

"Sarah," he groaned, his hands moving to tangle in my hair. "Oh fuck..."

I looked up at him, my eyes wide and innocent as I continued to pleasure him, taking him deeper with each movement. I could feel him growing even harder in my mouth, so hard now that I thought he might explode at any moment.

And I nearly let him.

Instead, I slowed my movements, pulling back until just the tip was in my mouth once more, then taking him deep again. I repeated the pattern, holding him there for a few seconds, shallow, then deep. Shallow, then deep. Tom was panting now, his grip on my hair tightening as he guided my movements.

“You're teasing me…” he gasped.

I allowed his wet shimmering cock to slowly slide out of my mouth as I looked up at him and smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am. I might even make you go back to your desk like this…”

I tapped his cock with my fingers and he winced. “No. Oh my god. You can’t do that to me. Seriously.”

“Don’t worry,” I laughed, my face turning serious as I opened my mouth and took him to the back of my throat quickly and then back out again with a satisfying ‘pop’. “I told you I was going to help you.”

And it was true. I had no intention of stopping. I was enjoying this way too much. I took him in my mouth again, pushing my tits together, increasing the pace slightly, my hand working his shaft in time with my mouth movements, my other hand still cupping his balls, squeezing them tighter now.

"I'm getting close," Tom warned, his voice strained. "Sarah, I'm going to cum."

I nodded, my mouth still full of him. I didn't pull back. Instead, I took him even deeper, my nose pressing against him again and again as I worked the full length of his shaft, my panties dripping now, imaginging it was my pussy he was fucking instead.

"Fuck!" he cried out in a strained whisper, his body tensing as he reached his peak. "Sarah!"

I felt him pulse in my mouth, his hot cum hitting the back of my throat as he came. I swallowed quickly, taking everything he had to give without even thinking about it, continuing to move my mouth up and down him as I swallowed.

When he was finished, I slowly pulled back, releasing him with another soft pop. I looked up at him, my lips slightly swollen, a small drop of his cum at the corner of my mouth. I deliberately licked it away with my tongue, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

Tom was leaning against the door, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked suddenly exhausted, his eyes half-closed in satisfaction.

"Was that okay?" I asked, my voice soft and innocent as I rose to my feet, straightening my clothes.

"Okay?" he repeated, opening his eyes and looking at me with disbelief. "Sarah, that was...incredible. Beyond incredible."

I smiled, pleased with his reaction. "I'm glad I could help," I said, reaching up to straighten his tie. "Remember what I said before. There are plenty of women out there who want you, Tom. And until you find one, I guess I’ll just have to keep being here for you.” I leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Not that I mind.”

With that, I turned and left the supply closet, leaving him to compose himself before returning to our desks, completely unaware that not only was I being watched, but that things were about to get even crazier…