"Uh, uh," I corrected. "I'll take your dress now," mocking her with her own words.
"Now wait," she tried to argue across the court. "I never thought I would actually have to..." her voice tapered. "I never planned to actually..." her voice softened again. She struggled for words and knew what was expected of her before the next game could begin.
"Would you like some help?" I calmly offered from the other side. I stood there in only my jock strap and tennis shoes. I had no interest in showing mercy.
She answered my question without words, and began to unzip the back of her short tennis dress. She pulled it off of her shoulders, lowered the dress and stepped out of it. God she is beautiful, I thought. Her body glistened from the sweat. Her large round firm tits were like that of a goddess, fully exposed through her sweat soaked white bra. It's only remaining purpose was to provide support. The wet sheer material did nothing to hide the beauty it held or her growing nipples pressing through the fabric. She wore a matching sports thong, also soaked from sweat. She turned to hang her dress on the fence behind her, giving an unhindered view of her thong-lined tight round fit ass. "Very nice" I called out. "Very nice."
Natalia's loss steeled her resolve, but her exposure clearly flustered her. She felt self-conscious and vulnerable. Her body battled between her fierce competitive instincts and her self-consciousness from being exposed. Her natural desire to cover herself as she played interfered with her well-honed muscle memory and swing. She tried to focus and put her game face on as she threw the ball up to serve. The blushing of her cheeks and uncharacteristic stiff serve gave her away. She double faulted. She couldn't remember the last time that happened. She felt herself begin to unravel. For the first time she began to fear what might happen. It was no longer only about winning, but what happens if you lose. In a new way, she experienced what was at stake. I made it a point to take in the view of her body, instead of her eyes, when she would look over the net before each serve. It made me more determined; it made her more self-conscious.
Sweat poured down her body from the heat and pressure. It took two for her to get her next serve in. I returned it to the opposite baseline corner. She got there, still struggling with her exposure, and hit the ball to the center of my court. I dinked it just over the net to the opposite corner. She sprinted to reach it in time, realizing she was offering me a closer look as she did. "Aaugh," she groaned, and hit the ball into the net.
"Love-30," I said smiling.
I enjoyed the view as she turned and walked back to the baseline for her next serve. I could hear her talking to herself, trying to regain her focus. She won the next two points, bringing it even at 30-30. I could feel her gaining momentum. I readjusted my jock strap to better contain my still firm dick. She waited to serve until I was ready, which distracted her again by the novelty of the situation. I returned her serve and initiated the best rally of the set. We both rushed the net, again heightening our exposure to one another. She hit the ball up, trying to lob it over me. I jumped up and reached for it with everything in me. She got a full eye view of my physique stretched out in the air. The tip of my racquet connected, sending the ball over her toward the back of her court. We were both riveted as we watched it land just inside.
"Yeeesss!" I said instinctively, clinching my fist and drawing it down victoriously.
She answered with a loud groan of disbelief. "I can't believe it!" she said disgusted.
"I am trying to decide which I want first." I paused to let my words sink in. "Your bra or that pretty thong of yours."
Natalia's mind began to spin. She couldn't imagine playing without either, and shuttered at how dangerously close she was. The flood of thoughts and insecurities compromised her serve, sending the ball out of bounds off to the side.
"Damn it," she said frustrated at herself. She carefully hit her second serve gently over the net, like a beginning tennis student. She had to make sure it landed in. She hadn't served that way in years, but couldn't stand the thought of losing her bra or thong on a double fault. Any serve like that to her in a tournament would always get it returned down their throats to prove her dominance. Now with her confidence shaken, she was serving to save her pride. Without fanfare, I met her serve as she would have and put it away at an impossible angle. She knew it was what a weak serve deserved.
We walked toward each other to trade sides. "2-3," I said. She knew the score. She was waiting in disbelief to hear what she needed to remove. I let the anticipation do its work. She had tennis balls in her hand to pass off for my turn to serve. "I have balls," I said answering her question from our first change of sides. She smiled sheepishly. As we met at the net, we crossed where my tennis shorts were still lying from when she dropped them to my ankles. "Why don't we leave your bra here too," I said. "Turn around. It's my turn." She obliged, allowing me to unclasp her bra from the back. The sport bra's tension from her full breasts sprung the straps forward as I released them. She pulled the bra forward, freeing her tits and dropped the stretchy material on top of my tennis shorts. She tried to obscure her chest with one arm while carrying her racquet in her other. I smiled. It was a moment neither of us would have ever imagined.
"That's all there is for you," she said determined. "This next one is mine. Your ass is mine." Her resolve was clear, but her confidence was compromised.
"God, your beautiful," I complemented, ignoring her threat. She immediately tried to cover herself again with her arms, feeling more vulnerable than ever. "I am looking forward to owning that thong. Can I ask you a question?" Natalia didn't answer, but looked over out of curiosity. "Is it sweat that has made it so wet?" The thin veneer of her game face gave way to the growing insecurity in her eyes. "My serve," I said adding insult to injury.
We took our places on opposite sides of the net. I threw the ball up for the serve. Natalia instinctively opened up her stance for the return. Her two breathtaking melons that I had only dreamed of were now fully exposed. Like two large bright globes lit up at night, the tender white skin of her round tits reflected the sun's rays against the backdrop of her dark bronzed tan body. I allowed the ball to drop without following through on my swing. "Wow," I said as a complement. She blushed at her exposure and the complement.
I threw the ball up for the serve and launched my swing. The serve landed in the back inside corner of the square. Natalia turned and ran for it, immediately feeling the awkward weighty movement of her unconstrained breasts working against her. She surprised herself by making the shot. We rallied several times before she won the point. She experienced it as a small moral victory. She was ready to win and make me pay. She applied the same determination and took the second point of my serve.
"Love-30," she boasted.
"I have you right where I want you," I answered back smiling.
"Bullshit," she answered back with her competitive juices flowing. Her drive to win now overshadowed her self-consciousness about her exposure on the court.
"I wonder if Bruce is done with his lesson," I asked as if offering innocent conversation. "Fear ripped through her mind at the thought that someone else could be watching. I threw the ball up and served my first ace of the match. Natalia tried to focus on the game, but became preoccupied by who might be watching from off the court. She took one point and answered with the next two.
"Deuce," I announced. I glanced up in the stands as if seeing something. Insecurity caused her to immediately follow my glance. I served my second ace.
"Damn it," she said chiding herself for her breach of focus.
"Match point," I called out, taking in the moment. I felt myself getting hard in anticipation of the trophy. Natalia was clearly nervous and sweating. I launched my serve. It was met by my ready opponent and was fired back. We engaged in one of the best rallies of the afternoon. I continued my strategy of running her from corner to corner at the baseline, and drawing her to the net. She was persistent, determined and beautiful. We both approached the net, and began to rally back and forth. She finally saw her opportunity and pounded one at an impossible angle. I dove for the shot, stretched across the court in mid-air to reach the ball. I felt my racquet connect just before I began my descent toward the hard surface of the court. I turned my head to look and watched the ball hit the top of the net and drop on the other side. Natalia stood there stunned as I lay sprawled on the ground with only a jock strap on.
