0 comments/ 167880 views/ 36 favorites Training Technique By: krr1957 This novella deals with themes of reluctant participation in a lesbian setting. If you think you might find such material offensive please try another story. * Chapter 1 As the plane banked over the Jutland peninsular and made its final descent into Aarhus Tirstrupt airport I felt the first pangs of trepidation. My parents fully supported my determination to place myself in the hands of Agnetha Madsen but they were unaware that it was a decision based as much on the current complications with my love life as it was on my desire to become a world champion. I walked through into the arrivals lounge and immediately recognized Larina but she did not return my smile. She helped me with my bags and left it to me to make the best of a rather one-sided conversation as she drove the short distance out to the training facility. She showed me to the room that was to be my home for the next twelve months and then left me alone. It was a little spartan but it offered a lovely view out over the frost tinged lawn to the lake. I turned away from the window and caught my reflection in the mirrored wardrobe door. Somehow the image did not seem like the real me and in some ways it had not been for the past two years. I had secured sponsorships from a cosmetics company and a major fashion chain and now it was incumbent upon me to look the part. To some degree this is what attracted had me to Agnetha. The girls she was training, Larina included, somehow managed to maintain their femininity whilst still producing medal winning performances; for the first time in years the female robots coming off of the Far Eastern production lines had some real competition. After I had unpacked I took a deep breath, and set off for my first meeting with the woman who would determine whether or not I would achieve my life's ambition. My room was one of four on the third floor and as I passed my neighbour's door I was brought up short. At first I thought that someone was in pain but, as I instinctively stopped and strained my ears, I realized my mistake. "Oh fuck!...Yes!...Don't stop!" I smiled to myself thinking that someone was breaking one of Agnetha's cardinal rules. Her regime was strict and I had been sent a list of infractions any one of which would lead to my expulsion from the facility. Top of that list was a total ban on male visitors in the accommodation block. I knew that I should have passed on by but there was no one else around and so I stepped closer to the door and cocked my ear. "Oh God!....That's it!....Now!....I'm coming!" Each imprecation was louder than the last and it was clear that the girl did not care who heard her slow rise to ecstasy. As she let out a final piercing shriek I found myself feeling decidedly jealous. I had not had sex for nearly six weeks and even that had been a furtively snatched bout before John's wife came to collect him from the gym. Having an affair with my trainer had been a distinctly bad idea and the more so as I became increasingly convinced that he was lying when he said that he loved me. I ran my hand firmly over the front of my abbreviated skirt, to try and quell the increasing tingling in my crotch, and then I pulled myself together. I skipped downstairs and less than two minutes later I was standing nervously outside Agnetha's office. I knocked and entered and Agnetha rose to greet me. The office itself was large, light and airy. The furniture was all bleached pine and the rear wall was a single huge glass panel beyond which the wooden flooring extended to form a patio deck. Against this background my new trainer was a dark presence. During her playing days she had always kept her hair cropped but she had now grown it out into a heavy black bob which softened her features. She had used a dark eyeliner to emphasis her deep blue eyes and her full lips were enriched with a lustrous red lip gloss. It was hard to believe that this beautiful woman was the same player that the press had christened "The Viking". She was wearing a black tracksuit, which sat a little incongruously with her impeccable make-up, but it was obvious that she still kept herself in great shape. She topped me by two or three inches but she somehow seemed taller still and, had I not known that she was twice my age, I would have thought her years younger. She smiled warmly, asked me about my flight, and then she got down to cases. "You've heard the rumours, you've seen my stipulations, if you are not prepared to play by my rules you can leave whenever you like. That said, you have a paid a years fees in advance and that is non refundable." She was talking a lot of money. Her fees were more than double what I was paying in the UK on top of which I was having to fund my living costs including accommodation at the centre. She was also looking for a larger percentage of any prize winnings but if her record with other girls was anything to go by I could look forward to more success. "Whilst you are here you will learn about physiology and sports psychology as well as fitness training and tactics. For your first two weeks you will not touch a racket." She must have seen the look of surprise on my face as she said this because she leaned forward to emphasis her next point. "Look, it's your choice, you can either be another Kournikova or you can be a gold medalist. What is it to be?" The jibe was double-edged. I hated being compared to a tennis player and particularly Kournikova. The press had made much of my resemblance to the young Russian and the danger that, like her, I could fail to achieve but still make a living from endorsements. I had already been offered a small part in an independent British film and my natural vanity had almost led me to accept. The next morning I reported to the treatment room where I was introduced to Tamiko, a young Japanese woman, who acted as the centre's physiotherapist. For nearly two hours she talked me through the nature of muscle groups and particularly those governing the wrists and legs. I was having trouble taking it all in and was still confusing the flexor carpi redialis and flexor carpi ulnaris when she told me to strip off and lie down on the massage table. I lay face down, with only a small towel to protect my modesty, as she illustrated the remainder of her lecture with the movements of her hands. I have had many massages, usually as a prelude to a big game, but I had never experienced anything quite like Tamiko's touch. She talked me through what she was doing but I was afloat in a world of my own. She was running her fingers just over the surface of my skin so that the tiny, almost invisible hairs, erected under a static charge and then she stroked more firmly coaxing each muscle group in turn. It was so relaxing and I felt like a cat stretching out its spine. As she worked over my shoulders and her fingertips brushed the edges of my breasts I began to think of John and I squirmed slightly to alleviate a growing itch between my legs. She cautioned me to keep still but now I just wanted it to be over so that I could get back to my room and bring myself some much needed relief. She continued for another quarter of an hour and I was growing ever more frustrated. I had never entertained the notion of making love to another woman but with a guilty inward smile I wondered what Tamiko would be capable of. Immediately dismissing this unworthy thought I tried to concentrate on what she was saying. Our session was brought to a close by the return of the girls from their on court training and I dressed quickly in the hope of slipping away but Tamiko had other ideas. Larina came through from the changing rooms looking decidedly hot and with no hint of embarrassment she stripped out of her sweat soaked sports kit. I just had time to notice that she was a natural blonde before she lay down on the table that I had so recently vacated. Tamiko beckoned me to her as she began to work at Larina's muscles heedless of the perspiration that sheened her skin. She had her eyes closed but I could see, from the expression on her face, that she was enjoying the magic feel of the Japanese woman's fingertips. I was still appraising Larina's lean, tanned, body when I realized that I was being asked to help. I placed my hands tentatively on the back of her left calf and tried to emulate what Tamiko was doing to the right leg. I was immediately aware of the smoothness of her skin and the curvature of her muscles. She had superb tone but it was so very different from the hardness of a male physique. I found my hands moving a little higher and Tamiko remonstrated with me but I am certain that Larina gave a tiny sigh. I suddenly felt a little annoyed that she should be enjoying it quite so much, as if I were some sort or body slave, but I had to remind myself that I had been in a similar position just a few moments earlier. I resumed my ministrations carefully following Tamiko's instructions. She had spoken to me about "muscle flutter" the moment when a tensed muscle is coaxed to relax under the fingertips and resonates very slightly. My own clumsy fingers could not perceive this subtle change and Tamiko was showing signs of exasperation. Her hands were now working the hams in the back of Larina's thigh and she encouraged me to follow suite. I was feeling uncomfortable, not least because of Larina's nakedness, and the fact that Tamiko's fingers were edging closer to the crease of her buttocks. She was still asking me if I could feel the transition and I was tempted to lie but then a frown of anger creased her face. "Do this." I watched incredulously as she leant forward and placed the tip of her tongue high up on the back of Larina's thigh. She straightened up and stopped what she was doing waiting for me to give it a try. After a second or two she clicked her tongue and then spoke to me as if I were a simpleton. "Do it. Your tongue is more sensitive than your fingers." I remained frozen for a second or two but then I copied what she had done. Larina's skin was slightly salty but she was immaculately depilated and it was such a marked contrast to John's coarse hirsute legs. Without thinking I moved my tongue slightly over the surface only to hear an audible moan. I stood up instantly and caught the slight smile on Larina's face. I stormed out of the treatment area and went straight back to my room. Within ten minutes Agnetha was on the phone. She told me in no uncertain terms that I was to do exactly what Tamiko asked of me or I was to leave. Two minutes later I had most of my personal items stuffed hurriedly into my suitcase but then my anger passed and I started to think more rationally. I guess that, in part, my anger was fuelled by the fact that, at nineteen, Larina was my junior by only a couple of months but there was no doubting that her progress, under Agnetha's tutelage, had been spectacular. I was world ranked eighth and she had come from nothing to sit just a couple of places below me. I went back to Tamiko and assisted as she warmed down the other two trainees. For the next few days I felt like a nun. I worked with Tamiko during the day and took my evening meals with the other girls in the refectory. They made polite conversation but I felt very much the outsider. There was, of course, a certain irony in this because I was regularly seeing them naked and Tamiko had made me repeat the trick of using my tongue to check for tension. I began to harbour the suspicion that they each looked forward to that part of the session and I could not shake the feeling that I was being mocked. They invited me into town, but I got the sense that they were simply being polite and so I spent my evenings reading or watching DVD's on my laptop before masturbating myself to sleep. My problem was that, in trying to rid myself of memories of John, I found myself thinking of the treatment room, and particularly the daily massages I received from Tamiko, as I reached a climax. On the fifth morning I reported to the treatment room as usual but something was different. Tamiko, who had, up to then, always presented herself with her hair tightly, and sensibly, bound now wore it loose reaching almost to the small of her back and her immaculately pressed white overall had been replaced by a gloriously embroidered blue silk kimono. I had put her age somewhere in the thirties but now, seeing a hidden beauty revealed, I began to think that I might have over estimated. As I came through the door she brought her hands together and made a bow. "Congratulations. I have told Agnetha that you have reached the required standard. You need now only attend the treatment room for your own conditioning." For a moment I felt slightly at a loss. I had actually begun to enjoy the learning process and I was pleased at the things I could now do with my hands. I had come to know the girls' bodies and was willing to bet that I could tell them apart blindfolded even though they shared a similar physique. Gathering myself, I thanked her and turned to leave, but she touched my arm. "This morning, you get a full ritual massage. Get undressed please." I did not argue. I stripped out of my clothes and lay down on the table allowing my body to relax into the padded leather surface. I waited for Tamiko to drape my buttocks with a towel, a routine which seemed odd given that the others always lay completely naked, but she made no move to cover me. Instead, she lit a squat candle which began to fill the air with the scent of sandalwood and then, standing beside me, she picked up a glass-stoppered bottle and poured a measure of amber coloured oil into the palm of her hand. She started on my calves and the oil was cool to the skin but as she gently massaged it in I felt a pleasant, rosy, warmth. She took her time working each leg slowly in turn and then both at once. Her touch was more delicate than usual; she was not kneading my muscles as much as preening them and the feeling was deliciously therapeutic. I felt her hands moving higher as she used her thumbs to manipulate the back of my knees and I found this oddly stimulating. As she continued I felt my eyelids growing heavy but then, without warning, she stopped altogether. I stayed still, not wanting it to be over, but then I was taken by surprise. Almost before I realized it she had mounted the table and she straddled my back. She took her most of her weight on her knees but I could feel her buttocks pressing lightly on the base of my spine. From this vantage point she reached down to my calves once more and commenced with a series long strokes up over the back of my thighs. It felt so nice but my focus had completely shifted. As she moved rhythmically back and forth she was gently brushing against my back and I was not convinced that she was not wearing underwear. I was still wondering if this was in the Japanese tradition when her hands made their first foray over my buttocks. Her touch was so assured as she spread her fingers and held me firmly whilst her thumbs did wonderful things at the summit. My instinct was to open my legs but the pressure of her knees held me in check. I was guiltily aware that I was allowing myself to be affected in a totally inappropriate manner but I was afloat on an ocean of bliss. I felt almost aggrieved when she finally dismounted and turned her attention to my back. She worked her way slowly upwards from my coccyx to my shoulders but every now and again her fingers brushed at the edge of my breasts. She had done this before, in the course of our sessions, but this time I felt my nipples hardening beneath me. I was still reveling in the sensation when she lifted her hands away. "Turn over please" I felt myself blush and was unsure what to do but I could not just lie there. In the end I rolled over onto my back with my arm covering my breasts. She appeared not to notice my awkwardness and almost immediately she straddled me once more. Now that she had her back to me I willed my nipples to relax but my cause was not helped as she leaned forward and began to work oil into my shins. Her sleek black hair flowed over her back as she moved and I could feel the warmth of her on my stomach. I found myself peeking at the shifting hem of her kimono as she straightened a little and started to stroke my thighs. I needed to get a grip on myself and so I closed my eyes and tried to remember what she had told me about the anatomy of the quadriceps but her magic thumbs had found their way into the dimples high up on the inside of my thighs. At that moment I felt an inner heat and I panicked lest she pick up the embarrassing trace of my arousal but some personal demon was hoping that she would go further. I began to look for justification, to convince myself that it would be just this once, and, after all, I was not being called upon to reciprocate. My heart quickened at this outrageous thought and then she stretched forward. She reached out and began to massage the tops of my feet but, in so doing, she shifted back a little so that her weight was centred on my chest. This caused her kimono to ride up and I was afforded a view of her tight, well-formed, behind through the curtain of her hair. Now each tiny movement grazed my breasts and my nipples became almost painfully hard. There was no way that she could remain unaware but she continued with slow leisurely strokes seemingly unaffected. I felt the first pricks of perspiration on my forehead and through the miasma of sandalwood and fragranced oil I was convinced that I could discern the guilt ridden scent of arousal. I took a deeper breath but her hands were slowly making the journey back up my legs and as they moved so did she. By the time her hands reached my thighs she was astride my breasts and I knew that this was beyond the limits of any ritual massage. I heard myself telling her to get off me but before I had finished saying it her hand found my sex. It was the faintest of touches, as she skimmed the neat growth of hair that dressed my pubis, but I felt my whole body shiver. She did it again and again, so delicately that it felt as if I were being stimulated by gentle wafts of air.. I was desperate for a firmer touch, and perhaps something more but, as I raised my hips, she moved with me keeping up the same tantalizing routine. I groaned in frustration and I felt a warm tell-tale prickling as I started to leak. . It went on for minutes as she gently rotated her pelvis creating a pleasing warmth and pressure on my breasts. At the finish I could take no more. I whispered an entreaty. "Please..." It was as if she had waited for this moment and two things happened at once. In a single movement she pressed the flat of her hand gently onto my pubis allowing her middle finger to penetrate me with sluttish ease. I gave an involuntary gasp and, as I did so, she slid backwards until she was squatting over my face. My first, irrational, thought was that she had got oil all over herself but I suddenly realized that this glistening moisture, filming the inside of her legs, betrayed her own arousal. Without conscious thought I found myself drawing breath through my nose and found that her scent was almost as familiar as my own but I had never been enveloped in it to such a degree. She remained poised, as though allowing me a moment of appreciation, and then her finger did something incredible inside me. I felt a sudden pressure somewhere behind my clitoris and there was an instant of almost unbearable pleasure. As it surged through my body my spine stiffened lifting my head from the table bringing my face between her legs. My fastidious nature made me flinch, fearing a wet mess of pubic hair, but there was just an incredible smoothness. As my head fell back again she shifted slightly so that her sex was directly above me and I could see that it was as perfect and shiny as a beetle's carapace Training Technique I lay there willing her to continue and then I felt her finger twist almost imperceptibly. As it did a second jolt of pleasure stiffened my body forming my mouth into a rictus and she brought herself lower. Her sex was pressed gently to my lips and a sharp tang invaded my mouth. This was not what I wanted, far from it, but her finger seemed to be vibrating inside of me and I found myself panting. I was being held on the verge of an incredible orgasm but she refused to take me over the edge. In the heat and wetness between her enclosing thighs I whimpered pathetically. "Please...please..." As my mouth formed the words my lips moved against her sex and she mirrored the stimulation with her finger. Her meaning was clear but I could not bring myself to do it. The impasse lasted a few seconds and then she withdrew her finger just the tiniest fraction. I had no choice, I had to surrender; her touch held the promise of a pleasure I had never known, a pleasure I could not forego. With reluctance I put out my tongue and touched it to the firmness of her sex. The first taste was unexpected, slightly salty, not altogether unpleasant but, as I started to lap at her, in the way I enjoyed having it done to me, it became richer, exciting more of my taste buds. It obviously met with her approval because her finger found the spot once more and I was quickly taken back to the edge Now that I had broken the taboo I found it easier. Her sex began to open allowing me to discover the petals of her labia and, as they bloomed, so her flow increased. I do not know when I reached the moment of transition, it may well have been in response to her irresistible palpation of my sex, but at some point I drove my tongue deep inside her. My initial reluctance had become a craving as I tried to fill my mouth with her essence. I had tasted myself on my fingers but it was as nothing to this. Her taste was both subtle and complex, exciting my tongue and firing neurons of pleasure deep inside. For a few seconds my own gratification was forgotten but she rewarded this new evidence of enthusiasm with another purposeful movement of her finger. I thought that I had reached orgasm but I realized, with astonishment, that she had simply taken me to a higher plateau that, unbelievably, there was more to come. At that moment I would have done anything for her. I opened my mouth wide and formed a seal around her sex , with my tongue buried deep, and then I began to suck. My technique may have left much to be desired but this physical declaration of my devotion was obviously to her liking. With a final curling of her finger the air rushed from my lungs as I melted into the be all and end all of climaxes. I found myself gasping for breath but she remained seated on my face as she surrendered herself to a far more controlled orgasm. She was pulsing moisture into my mouth in synch with my attempts to breathe and my tongue was being almost painfully constricted. At the same time as I was racked with pleasure beyond my experience it felt as if I were drowning but even in this there was some distorted fulfillment. At the zenith I think I may even have blacked out for a second or two because, as my body jerked with a few final aftershocks, I found Tamiko standing beside me. She favoured my with an inscrutable smile before she blew out the candle and left me alone. Chapter 2 I went back to my room and could not believe the mess I was in. My hair was damp with perspiration and my face red; fortunately, I had not bothered with make-up. I took another shower but even after some minutes under the warm jets I still felt as if I reeked of Tamiko. I stood there and, as so often, when I get agitated, I talked to myself and this time the question was "what the hell was I thinking of?" Thoughts crowded in on one another. Had she set out to seduce me or had I given some unwitting signal? Had she done this with any of the others? One thing I was absolutely clear on was the fact that it would not happen again. I had been scheduled to spend the whole day in the treatment room but there was no way in the world that I was going back that afternoon. Instead, I walked out of the complex and picked up the number nineteen bus which ran down to the deer park. There had been a leaflet advertising the attraction in the reception area but, fortunately, there were very few day trippers around. I was able to wander the grounds, keeping myself to myself, and try and put my thoughts in order. I returned in time for the early evening meal with the other girls, each of us on a slightly different regimented diet, and then I accepted an offer to join them in town. Larina drove and, as alcohol was expressly forbidden, we headed for a coffee shop in the old quarter. As we laughed together we were the centre of a lot of male attention. I had grown used to it over the past two years and had learned to ignore it but, that night, I guess I was seeking some form of reassurance. A couple of young, clean-cut, Danish lads kept smiling in my direction and I did nothing to put them off. I now knew that my next door neighbour at the complex was Larina and that she, at least, had sneaked in a male companion, so I was just a little put out when she told me to stop flirting and reminded me of Agnetha's strict rules. That night I could not sleep. Each time I closed my eyes I was confronted with yet another disturbing image of Tamiko. I knew that I ought to be disgusted with myself and I could not get over the way in which she had manipulated me so easily. The following morning I got up to find that a revised schedule had been pushed under the door. I was to report to the gym after breakfast and then to Agnetha in the afternoon. For the best part of three hours I was put through my paces and it quickly became apparent that the emphasis was to be on cardio-vascular work with only very limited weight training. During the course of the morning I surprised myself with my self analysis of my different muscle groups and the way they flexed and contracted; I was far more aware of my limits and I enjoyed exploring the boundaries After the session I was ready for a shower but I was caught by surprise when I was told to report to Tamiko. At the mention of her name I had a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach and the buzz I had got from the gym work instantly dissipated. In the event she was totally businesslike. Dressed, as usual, in a crisp white overall she was a model of brisk efficiency and she warmed me down as I had seen her do to the other girls. No reference was made to the previous day but I found myself on edge throughout the session wondering if, and when, her hand might go astray. After lunch I reported to Agnetha's office. She had two chrome and leather armchairs set up facing one another by the window and she told me to be seated. She sat opposite me with a clipboard on her knee. "This afternoon we are going to cover the rudiments of sports psychology. We are going to talk about self motivation and how we give ourselves an edge over our opponents. Now, all you are required to do is listen, but, whilst you do so, I do not want you to take your eyes off of my legs." I looked up at her in surprise. "Not my face. My legs" I immediately cast my eyes downward. She was wearing sports kit and her short white skirt meant that there was a lot of her legs to be seen. "I watched a video of you losing in the Malaysian Open. Tonight, I want you to watch it too" It was not a match I was proud of. I had lost to a ranked, but beatable, opponent. John and I had studied the video to try and spot the flaws in my game but his analysis had proved inconclusive. "I want you to notice, particularly, how your opponent keeps looking at your left leg." Now that she had said it I did remember it. At first I thought that the girl was checking me out, there are always a few lesbians to be found on the circuit, but she kept looking throughout the game. At the finish I wondered if I was carrying my leg awkwardly. "It's a trick a lot of the Far Eastern girls are using right now. It makes you think that they have spotted a weakness. You end up compensating for a problem that does not exist." For the next hour she expounded on what might traditionally be called "gamesmanship" and throughout that time I kept my eyes on her legs. I knew that, on retirement, she had, for a short while, modeled for a Danish lingerie company and it was clear to see why. Even now her legs were enviable; long, well shaped and not over muscled. From time to time she crossed them, rearranging her clipboard on her knee and at least once I found myself looking a little higher than was absolutely necessary. As I did so I formed a fleeting image of Agnetha and Tamiko together and I felt a warm, but embarrassing, tingling. With the session over I watched the video and found she was absolutely right. I felt such an idiot to have been influenced in this way. The next day followed the same routine. I did three hours in the gym followed by a massage but there was something subtly different about it. It was nothing I could pin down but when Tamiko had finished with me I felt a heightened sense of tension. I still felt slightly odd as I entered Agnetha's office. She was waiting with the chairs set up as they had been the day before and I sat without being asked. "Today, we are going to talk about court commands. During our training sessions I want you to hear my voice and do what I tell you without thinking. Later, we will work on your inner voice. You play an instinctive game and that serves you well, it surprises opponents, but to be the best you need to think through every single shot and the way to do that is to hear that voice." "Okay, whilst I talk I want you to keep your eyes on my shoulder." This all sounded slightly offbeat to me and I was a little put out because I thought she had already proved her point about staring at an opponent's limb. Nevertheless I did as she asked. The problem was that she had chosen to wear a scoop necked vest top and she was obviously not wearing a bra. Every time I tried to fix my gaze I felt my eyes slipping towards her breasts. She was well endowed and my own breasts were modest by comparison. Sports bras were all well and good but I found myself wondering if she found it a disadvantage on court. "Do you find them fascinating?" For a few seconds I had drifted away and lost what she was saying and now she was angry. "Would you like a better look?" She lifted her top to reveal a pair of heavy gourds crowned with perfectly round, chocolate brown, nipples. I should have looked away, apologized, but I simply stared. They were beautiful, in a purely aesthetic sense, but that was no excuse. She got up suddenly from her seat, her breasts still revealed, and a face like thunder. "What exactly are you here for? Have you come to learn or have you been hanging around in the showers with your young friends for too long? Were you trying to find out what a real woman's body looks like? Is that it? She moved closer to me and her tirade became almost concussive. "Well take a look and then perhaps we can get on!" She ripped away the velcro fastening of her sports skirt and allowed it to pool at her feet. Beneath it she was wearing a pair of flesh coloured panties which struggled to contain her sex. She had the most prominent mound I had ever see and it was covered with a luxuriant growth of black curls. I had been exposed to naked bodies throughout my sporting career and the vogue, amongst players, was for total depilation with a few going for a token fringe but this was beyond my experience. It had a feral quality, a sense that this was how nature intended things to be, and it seemed so right. Only days before I had blanched at the prospect of touching Tamiko but now I felt an unnatural attraction, a stirring deep inside of me. Without conscious thought my tongue moved in my mouth seeking out the phantom of a forbidden taste. I tried to shift my gaze but, as I did so, she moved very slightly. It was a tiny transition but it gave her posture a certain arrogance. At that moment I wanted nothing more than to nuzzle up against her, to feel her warmth, to take in her scent., but she put her hand behind my head and pulled it back slightly. She looked me directly in the eyes. "You little slut." And then she was gone. She picked up her skirt and refastened it before taking her seat as if nothing untoward had taken place. "Now, where were we?" For the remainder of the session I stared mutely at her shoulder as she elaborated on the court commands that she would be using. My heart rate was raised and my skin felt clammy and it was all I could do to avoid fidgeting in my seat. Fortunately, she did not keep me for very much longer before dismissing me for the day and I left the room almost in a daze. I felt chagrined but also an embarrassing sense of arousal. I was still cursing myself under my breath as I walked into my room and I was startled to find Tamiko sitting in the single arm chair - she was wearing the same blue silk kimono. "Lock the door." I flared to anger and told her to leave, or perhaps that was another me, because I found myself turning the key and my pulse pounded in my temples as I slowly turned from the door to face her. She was sitting with her legs crossed, her fingers steepled together under her chin, with a knowing smile on her face. I remained still, unsure what to do, and my discomfort seemed to amuse her. She waited some seconds before she slowly uncrossed her legs allowing the kimono to slip open with a gentle hiss of silk. My stomach lurched as I recalled the sensual skill of her fingers and I was all too aware of the dampness between my legs. The frisson that I had felt whilst ensconced with Agnetha was boiling up once more and I could see, in Tamiko's eyes, that I had no secrets. I could not look her in the face and my eyes dropped to her breasts which were still just hidden by the folds of her gown. At this, she turned slightly allowing the briefest glimpse of a conical pink nipple before she leisurely lifted one leg and draped it over the arm of the chair. I wanted to close my eyes in denial but they were drawn, almost hypnotically, downwards to where her sex glistened. Even as I watched the firm mound seemed to swell allowing the pink inner lips to yawn into awakening. I swallowed audibly and there was no doubt that she heard. She skimmed the tips of her fingers regally over her sex as though presenting a rare jewel. "Adore me..." The air seemed charged as I caught the faintest hint of her scent and then I was drawn forward as though by an invisible tether. Time stood still and I felt disembodied as I went down to my knees. There was no subtlety. I licked broadly over the clear divide of her sex filling my mouth with her taste and then I was like an animal. I licked again and again, long strokes, accompanied by a bestial keening. Her sex opened wider as I drove deeper and any pleasure she took was certainly not as a result of my technique. Juices and saliva bubbled in my nostrils as I tried to sate my irrational need and, in those seconds, I wanted to fuse with her, to feel my tongue squeezed in her comforting depths. And she understood it all. She put her hand to the back of my neck, applying a gentle but insistent pressure. Breathing became difficult but I welcomed the onset of light-headedness as I swallowed her warm offering. I do not think she climaxed; she seemed content to let me work out my feelings but I did not know what I really wanted. At the outset I wanted her to use her mouth on me, to create another of those shattering orgasms, but as I suckled gently at her sex I reached a state of personal nirvana that seemed to transcend the physical. At some point she released me and I reluctantly fell away from her only to be overwhelmed by immediate sense of guilt. She rose imperiously, vouchsafing me one last look at her body, before wrapping herself in her kimono and gliding to the door. As it closed behind her I finally broke down. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I wallowed in self recrimination and tried to understand what had just taken place. The next morning I felt no better and the temptation to give up and leave the complex almost won out but, in the end, I determined to get a grip on myself and at least wait until the conclusion of the Dutch Open. I reported to Agnetha and we sat as we had the day before. As soon as I was in the room with her I felt my skin flush and my whole body seemed unnaturally warm. I had a notepad on my lap and I scribbled away as she spoke but, every now and again I was taking surreptitious glances at her legs. When the time came to leave her office my heart was hammering. I headed back to my own room but I paused at the threshold. For a few seconds an internal battle waged in my mind, so intense that it resulted in a headache. One part of me desperately hoped that Tamiko would be there whilst the other was frightened at the prospect. The room was empty and I now had to cope with a combination of relief and disappointment with both feelings being further exaggerated as I collapsed onto the bed and pushed my hand into my panties. The next couple of days were a repeat of the same routine. I grew heated in Agnetha's presence, especially as she had a habit of opening her legs as she leaned forward to emphasis a point, and then the anticipation as I returned to my room. I even shunned the company of the other girls, despite repeated offers to join them in the evening, but I felt I just could not trust myself. It was as if I was living a dream but, in my more lucid moments, I was shaded by a cloud of self-loathiing. Finally, Agnetha allowed me some court time and it felt comforting, in more ways than one, to have a racket back in my hand. I was surprised, however, when we were ushered to the far end of the hall where there were no nets and no court markings. On further inspection there was a single rectangle marked out on the floor. It was about six inches square and Agnetha made us stand about six metres back from it keeping it at a diagonal to us. We then spent the whole session lofting shuttles and trying to get them into the defined area. I could not see the point in this repetitious exercise but the girls took it very seriously and my competitive nature kicked in. After an hour or so Katya was way out in front but there was little to choose between Larina, Aruna and I. Just As I began to hope that we were nearing the end Agnetha shouted out "Forfeits!" The girls had told me about Agnetha's incentives and I certainly did not want to find myself cleaning one of the other girls rooms or doing laundry for that matter. The problem was that I now tried too hard and that, combined with lack of racket practice, allowed the others to pull ahead. Katya, as the winner, was allowed to choose my forfeit and the other girls laughed as she said that she wanted her room cleaned. My immediate reaction was to rebel but I did not want to appear to be a spoilsport; so, before dinner I found myself in Katya's room with dustpan and brush. As it happened she was almost clinically tidy and there was little to do but I determined not to loose the next day. The following morning we practiced serving over an imaginary net. In reality there was a laser beamed across the hall at the required height and Agnetha could monitor how tight we were to the tape. At intervals she called out our current standings and I was pleased when I moved into the lead but when she shouted "Forfeits" my excitement got the better of me. Training Technique I thought that I was doing well but Agnetha made it clear that I was falling back. At the finish Larina won and I was last again. I was sure that I saw her smirk when she said "laundry" but I swallowed my pride and followed her up to her room. I was glad that she had not asked me to tidy her room it was a tip compared to Katya's, but I had second thoughts when she handed me a bag of dirty underwear. "They'll need hand washing." I hovered on the verge of throwing it back at her but I checked myself and determined that, next time, she would be returning the favour. When I got the bag back to my room I found that it contained cotton sportswear that certainly did not warrant special attention and so I decided that I would use the communal laundry room and put them in with my own. I was about to put the bag to one side when I found one final pair of panties at the bottom. They were white silk, tanga style, and clearly very expensive. I wondered if these were what she wore when she smuggled in her boyfriend and I tossed them to one side angered at the thought that she wanted me to wash them. That evening I joined the girls in town and had to put up with some good-natured banter about my forfeits but I was already planning my revenge. When we returned to the complex I went straight to bed but, not for the first time, my sleep was troubled by images of Agnetha and Tamiko. As I thrashed, fretfully, in the darkness I flung out my arm and lighted upon something soft. It took a second or two to realize that I was touching Larina's discarded panties and I jerked my hand away again but then, for reasons I could not explain, I reached out once more. The material felt smooth and cool in my clammy palm as I gently crushed them but, even now, I was telling myself that this was dreadfully wrong. A fleeting image of Larina, naked, came unbidden to my mind and, as it did so, my free hand snaked its way down between my legs. To my surprise I was already obscenely wet and my fingers slipped easily inside. As I continued to tease myself I turned my face to the pillow to stifle a groan and drew my hand back into the bed. Without thinking I began to gently rub the soft silk over my achingly erect nipples and I felt my climax drawing closer. With two fingers buried deep I used the edge of my thumb to caress my clitoris but my other hand seemed to act of its own volition. My fingers opened, straining the silk, and at the same time turning them inside out. I should have stopped, cleared my head, but like a free diver gasping for oxygen I stretched them over my face and breathed deep. They were impregnated with her scent and I could not shake the notion that she had made them wet for me knowing exactly what I would do. It was a rich smell that reached into my mind like an expanding nova and now I worked my clitoris with an unremitting energy. My orgasm wrenched at me, thrashing my body, but every heaving breath was sucked in through wet silk drawing out the very last taste of her. In the aftermath I sobbed, both with pure pleasure and remorse, but less than half an hour later I was reaching a second shattering climax as I licentiously pushed the bunched panties deep inside myself. Chapter 3 On court the next day I could not meet Larina's eye but now, I felt, I had a chance. We were to play conventional singles, a round robin series of mini matches to five points with the points total being accumulated. I was afraid that I might be a little rusty but I outranked the other three and I was determined not to lose. I got off to a good start beating both Aruna and Katya but Larina refused to be fazed by my powerful style. She deliberately slowed the game down and suddenly nothing would go right. My serves fell short and my smashes, usually so accurate, all went wide or went beyond the base line. Things went from bad to worse. Aruna and Katya saw what Larina was doing and they adopted the same tactics; by the end of the second round I had lost to both of them. By the end of the session I was trailing badly and in my final game, against Larina, I had nothing to play for but pride. I reined myself in and tried placing my shots with the result that I soon had her chasing the game. It was the longest game of the day by far but, with a final triumphant whoop, I smashed a winner. Larina's singlet was plastered to her body as she came to the net to shake hands perfunctorily and she did not look best pleased. Agnetha told us that she would discuss the session after lunch and told Aruna and Katya to report to Tamiko. With time on my hands I decided to shower in my room but Larina caught me up at the lift. "Do you have my washing?" I resented her terse tone but I kept my tongue. I had finished the laundry before breakfast and I invited her to come and collect it. She followed me into my room and I caught her casting a critical eye around my scant personal effects. I handed her the bag of washing, which was still a little warm from the dryer, and only then did I remember the silk panties. I had had to hand wash them twice and had even added a little eau de cologne to the rinsing water. They were hanging up to dry on the towel rail but now that I looked at them I could see that they were drying horribly creased. Larina, walked into the bathroom behind me, and snatched them from the rail. "What the hell have you done to them." She held them up and then with an odd look she brought them to her face and sniffed. "They smell of your perfume. Have you been wearing them?!" "Of course not. They were a little soiled." It was a poor choice of words and I immediately regretted saying it. "Soiled! I've hardly worn them." I knew this not to be true but I could hardly make an argument of it. She was visibly angry and I tried to make amends. "Look, they just smelled as though they needed freshening up." It was a stupid thing to say. Like everyone I sniff my clothing from time to time to see if I can get away with not washing things but it was not something you say in relation to someone else's underwear. She looked at me oddly. "You've been sniffing them?" I brushed past her back into the bedroom "Of course not." She followed me out refusing to let it go. "You just said they didn't smell fresh." "Look, it was just a turn of phrase." Now her tone turned more mischievous. "Is that how you get yourself off, sniffing other girls panties? Perhaps I ought to tell the others to check for missing underwear." "Come on, you've had your fun now I want you to leave." "You should have just said. I could have let you have a steaming hot pair. Here, how about these?" She lifted up her brief skirt to reveal her white cotton briefs and I found myself staring. I had seen her naked but this was, somehow, even more intimate. Her inner thighs were still sheened with perspiration and the panties themselves were damp at the edges where they had soaked it up. I looked away but I had lingered a second too long and I saw a realization dawn in her eyes. She looked directly at me as she unfastened her skirt with a sudden rasp of Velcro that made me flinch. "Don't be coy. You only had to ask..." My thoughts immediately sprang back to the day of my arrival when I had listened outside her door; only now did it occur to me that it might have been one of the other girls in the room with her. I found myself excited by the notion but I had to put a stop to this immediately. "Please put your skirt back on and leave." "Are you sure that's what you want...?" I was about to phrase it more forcefully as she pressed a finger gently to the crotch of her panties. As she did so a damp circle formed, its circumference slowly widening. I tried to look away but the sight was shockingly beguiling. I was unsure on my feet for a second as I willed myself to move away but the trap was already closing as she took a slow step forward. "Get down on your knees..." Her tone was, at once, both tender and demanding and, with my legs already threatening to give way beneath me kneeling seemed like a sensible option. "Good girl." She stroked my hair and she suddenly seemed so much older than me. "Lick my thighs..." I had heard her say it in my dreams, an echo of Tamiko's massage instruction, but now the context was different. Any thoughts of a clinical exploration were dispelled as I placed my hands on the back of her legs and bent to my appointed task. I licked the salty perspiration from her thighs with broad sweeps of my tongue like a dog on heat. Somewhere, above me, she laughed but I no longer cared. Her skin was delicately tanned and incredibly smooth and I licked everywhere. "You little slut. I knew, that first time on the massage table; do you think about me while you masturbate?" I ignored her taunts as my hands explored the well defined under curve of her buttocks and then my fingertips brushed at the cotton of her panties, stretched tight by the perfect globes, as though reading a message for the blind. She smelt feral. Her delicately scented deodorant was just starting to lose the battle against the days exertions and this, combined with the rich reek of her underwear should have been off putting but my mind was clouded by memories of the night before. I could almost feel the silk panties against my face once again. This association of ideas gave rise to a new madness. Without thought I lifted my head and I licked at her sex through the ripe, wet, material. "Don't stop. You really are a little knicker lover aren't you?" The night before I had been consumed with guilt as I tentatively touched my tongue to silk but now I was a ravening beast. I sucked noisily filling my mouth with the taste of wet cotton enriched with her essence. For a moment I had a fleeting remembrance of childhood and my mother scolding me for putting the collars of my dresses in my mouth but the image faded almost as soon as it was formed. I was virtually chewing at her but the grinding of her hips suggested that it was very much to her liking as she entwined her fingers in my hair. "That's it....just like that...make me come..." The sodden cotton was abrading my tongue but still I licked, all the while snorting laboured breaths through my nostrils. Finally, a jerk of her hips told me that the moment had arrived. It was an unintentionally painful thrust into my face but she was using both hands now to keep me in place as the tremors shook her whole body. As she rode it out, her legs threatened to betray her, but she held on tightly with her weight bearing down on me until, with one last gasp, she let me go and then, unceremoniously, stepped back and collapsed onto my bed. I knelt there, my face wet and red from exertion, and the first, totally irrational, thought that entered my head was that she was going to stain the quilt. It was absurd, but then the whole situation was surreal. I wanted to go and wash myself but some part of me felt that she would find it insulting. She looked at me as she tried to catch her breath and then smiled. "Just give me a moment." My mind was in turmoil. I desperately wanted her to go but at the same time I was incredibly aroused. Would she? If I asked? I stayed as I was, daring to hope, until she regained her composure, but she then slinked further up the bed until she was sitting up with her back supported by the headboard. She quickly slipped out of her damp tee-shirt and then discarded her bra to reveal her lividly erect nipples. I wanted to undress, to lie with her and feel her breasts pressed against my own but my innate sense of propriety still required an invitation. I held my breath, willing her to say the words, and then watched as she raised herself slightly and skimmed her ruined panties down her legs. She kicked them onto the floor and then opened her legs with her knees raised. The light covering of blonde hair on her pubis, usually so immaculate, looked as if it had been insanely gelled and her sex itself appeared mauled. Her labia were swollen and the private pink interior lay glisteningly revealed. "Okay, I'm ready, take it slow this time..." I felt a sharp pain, a hurt that centered itself in my chest. Nothing had been said, promised or inferred but I felt rejected and it was not a feeling I was familiar with. For a few seconds I remained rooted to the spot and then I got to my feet. I was going to leave the room, to make her feel the same way as I did, but as if reading my mind, she put her hand between her legs and pushed two fingers deep inside. They made a rich, inviting, sucking sound and when she withdrew them she slowly allowed her fingers to open revealing delicate syrupy strands. "Come and eat me..." I was put in mind of a spiders web but, the truth was, I had no wish to escape. She held her fingers out to me as I drew nearer and joined her on the bed and then she gently pushed them between my lips. I closed my eyes as I used my tongue to savour the bitter sweet taste, licking between her fingers until there was no more to be had. She indulged me for a moment or two and then she slowly pulled her fingers free. I followed, reluctant to let them go, but she coaxed me downwards and, when they were finally gone, I was just inches from her sex. I needed no further inducement; I leant in and formed a seal with my mouth. Mindful of her wishes, and fearful that I had been a little too aggressive at first, I used my tongue to gently trace the contours of her labia licking in long lazy circles. "Yessss.....that's nice." She was incredibly hot and I found myself wondering if the physical exercise she had performed had any bearing but that ceased to matter as her sex began to seep a succulent creamy offering. I pressed my tongue gently to her core and it was as if I had applied pressure to a membrane. Notwithstanding, her first orgasm, she was still surprisingly wet and I relished the taste as it flowed over my tongue. Her raised legs seemed to shield me from the world as I snuggled deep in the valley content simply to lick her as, over long minutes, she slowly tensed herself for a second powerful orgasm. Her breathing became more ragged and I took this as my cue to give her clitoris some attention. I pulled back a little freeing my nose from the tender embrace of her labia and only in so doing did I realize how strong her scent had become. Without thought, I closed my eyes and breathed it in only to feel my own sex tingle in anticipation. "Don't stop." She pulled me back into place, breaking my reverie, and I used my tongue once more. Her clitoris was discrete and, despite my best efforts, I could not coax it completely free but it did not seem to matter. As I licked softly at the fleshy collar her body suddenly stiffened lifting her up from the bed. For the next few seconds she remained bowed, taking her weight on her head and buttocks, until, suddenly, she gave a piercing shriek. I feared that I had hurt her but then she began to shudder uncontrollably as the pent up pleasure zinged through her. I wanted to get lower, to swallow everything, but I remained focused on her clitoris teasing out the final ripples until she slumped on the bed totally spent. She looked beautiful, with her eyes closed and a high colour in her cheeks which was mirrored by a vivid flush across the top of her breasts. She seemed totally relaxed and quite at ease with herself as she lay with her legs still wide open. Only now did I become aware of a painful cramping in my neck and an ache in my jaw, which threatened to worsen later on, but still I was not sated. She was wet with a mixture of her juices and my saliva and, starting on her inner thigh, I began to clean her up. "Ummmm... that's nice." She stretched herself and casually brought her hands to her breasts as I worked my way over her mound and across to her other leg. I could find no rationale for my behaviour; perhaps I hoped, even now, that it would be my turn but if I gave a signal it was misread. She reached up and grabbed my pillow and then used it to raise her hips. "I'm ready when you are..." Chapter 4 The next morning Larina greeted me on court as though nothing had happened but my tongue, sore to the root, knew otherwise. I had been fearful that she would tell the others but the practice session started as usual with no obvious sniggers. Agnetha had us playing each other whilst she shouted commands. When my turn came I was paired with Larina and I found it difficult to stifle my natural playing instincts as I listened for her voice. "Down!" "Get in!" Agnetha moved from end to end, coaching each of us in turn, and it was as she was instructing Larina that we met at the net in an exchange of drop shots. I had to go low to pick up a particularly good return when Agnetha screamed. "Force her!" Something in my mind slipped at that point and Larina gave me a knowing smile as she hit an unplayable shot to the back of the court. From then on I could not concentrate. Every one of Agnetha's commands seemed to take on a new, sinister, significance and Larina wound up thrashing me. A little later we had another round robin tournament but I found myself almost in tears as shot after shot mixed its mark. I excused myself and went to the toilet so that no one would see my distress but I had only been there a moment or two before Katya walked in. At twenty-three she was the oldest of our group but she displayed a maturity beyond her years. She had a natural gentleness of spirit but when it came to matches she was as ferocious as any of us and I sensed that there was little love lost between her and Larina on court. She came over to me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders. "You have to get used to the court markings." I looked at her perplexed at what seemed a cryptic remark. "Agnetha has the court marked up a couple of centimeters short. It is also a little narrower than regulation width. She wants to condition us to play within those boundaries so that, when we play for real, there is an allowance for the extra degree of exertion that she demands of us." I looked at her in astonishment. My shots had not been going out, they were simply going where my long years of muscle memory were placing them. Back in the UK I had sometimes practiced with a slightly heavier shuttle; I found it a waste of time because I was quickly able to compensate but it would never have occurred to me to play on anything but a regulation court. I felt such a fool but I also felt very angry. It was if I had been duped. Without another word I went back out to the practice hall and picked up my racket. I began to play like a woman possessed. With a speed and strength fuelled by rage I began to smash shots from all parts of the court. Larina tried to slow me down by playing drop shots but I simply lofted the shuttle back inviting her into an exchange which she could not resist. She was no match for me, and having beaten her I proceeded to finish off the other two with ease. I wound up the overall winner but, better still, Larina had overexerted herself in her effort to beat me and she subsequently lost to both Aruna and Katya. I suddenly realized that it was for me to call the forfeit and for Larina to pay it. Of necessity, Larina went into Tamiko first but as she passed by I could not resist whispering to her. "I'll see you in your room afterwards...be ready." When it came to my turn I enjoyed Tamiko's ministrations as much as ever and she seemed, somehow, tuned in to me. The massage, at first vigorous, developed into something almost sensual and by the time I got off of the table, to give way to Katya, I was more than ready. Training Technique I made my way to Larina's room and knocked confidently on the door. She opened it and looked at me resignedly as she stepped aside to let me in. Following my shower I was wearing nothing more than a long, sloppy, tee-shirt and a pair of flip flops and, coincidently, she was similarly attired. My eyes fell to her chest where her nipples were clearly delineated through the thin cotton but they were as nothing to mine which excitement had brought to an aching rigidity. "I'm guessing that you don't want me to clean your room." I enjoyed my moment of triumph as I replied. "That's for sure. We have a couple of hours before lunch but you are going to do a lot of eating before then." As I said it she looked over my shoulder and I turned to find Aruna standing at the bathroom door her face aghast. "Aruna has just received a letter from her father. He's found someone." That explained the tears that were starting from her eyes. Without thinking I rushed to her and put a consoling arm around her shoulder. "I am so sorry." Aruna was born and raised in Denmark and spoke English with the same cute accent as Larina and Katya but she was of Indian parentage. She was fun to be with, very much one of the girls, but the sword of Damocles hanging over her was the inevitable fact of an arranged marriage. She held only loose religious beliefs, and was happy to drink alcohol from time to time, but on the question of marriage she felt she had no choice. The rest of us found it a total anachronism and tried to talk sense to her. Men flocked to her, we had even nicknamed her "Paddy" due to her remarkable resemblance to Padma Lakshmi, the Indian supermodel and would-be actress, but she remained chaste. For myself I could not conceive of a life in which I only ever had sex with one man. I knew that, no matter how much I loved someone, my curiosity would one day get the better of me. I sat Aruna down gently on the bed and Larina came to sit on the other side of her. Once again, I launched into the same futile argument. "Look, I'm sure that your parents will make the right choice but you owe it to yourself to make a natural connection. What about that cute guy at the coffee shop? He's obviously besotted with you." Aruna looked into her lap as she replied. "I have to be a virgin..." It was positively medieval; besides which the term virgin was open to interpretation. If an intact hymen was a prerequisite then Aruna's self-confessed use of sex toys put her on uncertain ground. She even used masturbation as part of her argument saying that she could always resort to onanism if her husband turned out to be a disappointment. It was then that Larina quietly interposed. "She could still enjoy the experience ... it doesn't necessarily have to be a man." Her words hung in the air and I felt embarrassed on Aruna's part but then I suddenly realized that they were both looking at me. I got up from the bed quickly and fought down a wave of anger. "Larina, you are one sick puppy!" Mustering my dignity I turned and walked towards the door only to be brought up short. "Are you sure ...?" My fingers were already on the door handle. A couple more steps would have brought me back to normality but, like Lot's wife, I made the mistake of looking back. They were still seated side by side but Larina had lifted the hem of Aruna's abbreviated sports skirt to reveal her long tawny legs. There was a frozen pause and then, slowly, Aruna parted her knees. I wanted to draw my eyes away but my heart was already pounding and the more so when I saw that she was not wearing panties. Her sex was covered by a lush growth of black hair and, for a second or two, I was reminded of Agnetha's display; perhaps it was this that sealed my fate. "Please...I need to know what it's like." Aruna's voice was a sirens call but was there something more? A faintest hint of mockery? It made no difference, I had already taken the first irreversible step back towards her. As I drew closer she opened her legs wider to accommodate me as I slowly sank to my knees. For a few seconds I could do nothing but stare. The dark growth was not totally black. As she shifted slightly the light picked up subtle hints of burgundy complementing the native colouring of her skin and then, deep within, beckoning, a secret, roseate, orchid. I could smell its perfume, richer than any flora, and I was as captivated as a butterfly. I flitted over the dark canopy and then I moved closer to dip my tongue. "Oh God! She's doing it." I only heard Aruna's voice at the periphery of my consciousness as I focused on my single goal. Her labia were neat and symmetrical and, as if to proclaim her virginity, they met edge to edge except at the mid point where they pouted open slightly. I placed the tip of my tongue on the exposed pinkness and felt her inner heat whilst she, for her part, remained unnaturally still as she waited to see what I would do next. For a moment I was content simply to breathe her in. She favoured heavy, musky, perfumes, which complimented her exotic appearance, but this was now overlaid by the fresher, animal smell of her excitement. The combination was, heady, almost overpowering, but I could not get enough of it. Her impatience finally got the better of her. "Do it!" Her attitude rankled but, in truth, I was serving my own needs. I applied a gentle pressure, slowly peeling her apart, and I registered the first sharp tang but the deeper I went the sweeter it became. "Yess...." The nervous tension made itself manifest as her body began to quiver and the motion drew my tongue further in. She was incredibly tight but, as I explored deep inside, she finally managed to relax. "That's so good She brought her thighs together, squeezing my head, and I immediately stopped to make it clear to her that it was uncomfortable. Getting the message she eased the pressure but still kept my head trapped as though fearful that I might suddenly change my mind. In reality I was drooling. Her taste was that same rich nectar to which I was becoming worrying addicted but in my mind it seemed to have a caramel quality in keeping with her own exoticness. I lowered myself slightly so that my tongue was angled upwards allowing me to catch her flow. "Oh fuck! I'm going to come!" I had never quite got used to the ease with which this outwardly prim Indian girl would suddenly employ expletives just like the rest of us but, just then, her coarseness excited me to an incredible degree. She was shifting restlessly and then her thighs tightened about my ears once more whilst, in the muffled distance, I could hear Larina urging her on. "Don't hold back...she loves it." I started to stab at her with my tongue, my perspiring face sliding easily between her equally slick thighs, and then the dam broke. Her body shook with an unexpected violence but I had no choice but to ride it out with her as she kept me firmly gripped. When she finally deigned to let me go I was panting for breath but she lay back, unheedingly on the bed in a state of beatific exhaustion with her legs still open in wanton abandon. Her sex looked a little raw but still retained it quaint coyness and, as I watched, it slowly oozed a bead of clear moisture. Without thought I leant in and scooped it up on my tongue and was immediately goaded by Larina. "She's an insatiable little slut." At another time, in another place, I would have slapped her but the truth of what she said was self-evident. I was already trying to tease more moisture from her and Aruna did not seem to mind. "Let her have her fun." She eased herself further onto the bed so that she was lying prone with her knees raised and I followed slavishly. "Make her lick your clitoris, she really is very good." Following Larina's instruction she used her fingers to hold herself open to reveal a perfect pink pearl peeking out from its ochre collar. "Take your time ...." I pursed my lips to the inviting bud and kissed it reverentially before bring my tongue into play. For the next few minutes my whole world was but a span of inches as I teased her clitoris and slowly brought her to a peak of excitement. She very quickly began to groan and she would periodically thrash her head from side to side but I kept up the same leisurely pace only dipping now and again to lap up her ever more copious leakage. My tongue and jaw had grown used to this exercise and it must have been fully half an hour before I finally lavished her whole sex with the broad sweeps which I knew would take her over the edge. When the moment came she stopped breathing and her body slowly bowed upwards until with, with a final forceful exhalation and an accompanying string of expletives, she reached a second explosive climax. Almost before it was over I rolled away from her and wiped the back of my hand across my mouth as I tried to come to terms with what had just taken place. I closed my eyes to avoid the awkward silence that followed punctuated only by Aruna's laboured breathing. When I finally opened them it was to find Larina sitting in the armchair, gloriously naked, her hand idly toying with her obviously aroused sex. "I hope there's still some life left in that slutty little tongue of yours ...." Chapter 5 That same evening I once again thought long and hard about leaving but I finally decided on a new strategy. I determined to become a woman of ice. I trained with the others every day but refused to exchange anything more than courtesies. I declined to associate with them in my free time but most important of all I refused to go along with the forfeits; after all, they were not compulsory but simply a bit of fun. If Agnetha objected to my attitude then, as far as I was concerned, she could send me away. As it turned out I was able to set the agenda by winning the next two training sessions and refusing to demand a forfeit. The other girls' attitude towards me grew frosty very quickly but Agnetha seemed to find this new statement of intent somewhat amusing. I trained hard for the next few days and then we traveled together to Eindhoven where we joined up with our respective national teams. In theory I was beholden to the national coach but it had long since become recognized that the top ranked players would make their own coaching arrangements and after completing the formalities I was left to my own devices. On the day before the event I trained with my national team colleagues in the Sportcentrum hall where the event was to be staged and it quickly became clear to me that none of them would be capable of beating any of Agnetha's protégés. And so it proved. At the third round stage I was the only team survivor but elsewhere Larina and Aruna were also doing well. Unfortunately for Katya she was drawn against the world number three in the first round and was eliminated after a game struggle. In the quarter final I was lucky enough to be drawn against the only remaining unseeded player and I breezed through which gave me time to check out the number three court where fate had decreed that Larina and Aruna would play one another. On paper Larina should have won with something to spare but Aruna had, of late, found a new spirit. Much to Larina's chagrin I began to cheer on the underdog, along with the rest of the crowd, but, whilst Aruna managed to take the game to three sets, Larina's extra stamina won out at the finish. In the semi's Larina was drawn against the world number one and I the world number two. The night before Agnetha handed me another of her fabled dossiers. Amongst many other details and statistics it contained DVD highlights of my opponents recent games as well as charts showing her favoured shots and areas of the court. As I digested it I wondered what would have happened if I had been drawn against Larina. I naturally suspected that she would favour her fellow countrywoman but I was beginning to believe that she would genuinely support the player with the best prospect. On the day I played beyond myself and, with the help of the dossier, I won through. I was ecstatic and I came back out an hour later to cheer on Larina but it was clear from her manner that she was still peeved about my support of Aruna. To her credit she put up a titanic struggle but finally lost out after an epic third set leaving me to play the Malaysian number one in the final. I was so nervous that I had trouble focusing on the dossier which bore Agnetha's hand written amendments resulting from the semi final clash but I finally got myself to concentrate. The next morning I just wanted to get on court and get started but the game had a new satellite broadcaster and they were demanding a little more razzmatazz. Following the recent upsurge in interest in women's volleyball the European Badminton Federation was stealing some of their promotional ideas. This included a troupe of four scantily clad young women who warmed up the crowd with a series of raunchy dance routines. The girls were stunningly good looking and I had to pull myself away to avoid any unnecessary distractions but Larina, who seemed to know one of them, was cheering raucously at courtside. When the game finally started I lost the first set cheaply and I realized that, in the excitement, I had reverted to my instinctive game. For the second set I played to the dossier and it was almost as if I could hear Agnetha's voice inside my head. I lost the first few points but then I felt buoyed up by winning two shots exactly as she said I might. After that my confidence grew and I edged the second set. The deciding set was hard fought and became a war of attrition but I had played a much less demanding semi-final and, to my own disbelief, my opponent played one last loose shot and the championship was mine. The next few minutes passed in a blur. There was much offering of congratulations and then a formal presentation ceremony before I was snatched up for a television interview. When that was over the crowd gave another cheer and, still in a state of euphoria, I turned to go back to the dressing room. It was then that I saw them. It was a prank that had first seen the light of day at the Hong Kong Invitational and I suspect that it was another TV inspired stunt. The four dancers had unfastened the net and now they captured me in it. The crowd shrieked delightedly as the girls ran round me mummifying me in the nylon mesh with my arms pinned to my sides. They then lifted me up and carried me off the court shoulder high. I could hear the dying echoes of the crowd as they carried me out of the hall but it took a second or two to realize that we were not headed back to the players changing area. Instead, I was carried into a smaller changing room normally set aside for match officials. The girls lowered me on to a bench and I could see that the room was filled with their paraphernalia including costume racks and make-up mirrors. I tried to sit up but with my body and legs bound I could not quite make it. "Thanks girls, if you would like to help me up I could do with a shower." The leader of the troupe, a large breasted brunette, leaned over me and put a finger under my chin. Moving closer still she spoke in slightly accented English. "You're not going to disappoint us are you? Your friend says you like to play." I had no doubt that she was referring to Larina and I was furious. "Look I don't care what you were told. Let me up right now or I'll scream the place down!" "That's not very nice. Do you know how good it feels dancing out there? How much of a turn on to know that every man in the room is sitting there with an aching erection wishing he could have you? A girl needs a little stress relief." I had had enough. I opened my mouth to scream but she was too quick for me. She clamped her hand over my mouth and turned to the others. "Give me something to keep her quiet." I watched wide-eyed as another of the girls quickly slipped off her panties and handed them over. Now, when the hand was removed from my mouth, I kept it firmly closed but the brunette reached down and squeezed my breast through the netting causing me to gasp in surprise. As my mouth opened she deftly slipped the panties between my lips and I knew, immediately, that she had not been joking when she said that their performance aroused them. The taste was strong and, for the briefest instant I pushed my tongue deeper into the bunched material, but then sanity prevailed and I desperately tried to spit them out. The brunette put her hand back over my mouth and pointed at one of the clothes rails. "Pass me that." She was handed a single, tan, lycra stocking and I was powerless to resist as she opened it and then quickly pulled it down over my head. I felt like a bank robber but I was surprised at how much I could still see. The problem was that there was now no way I could expel the panties. I made an effort to scream but all I could manage was a muffled nonsense. The girls gathered round and laughed at my predicament which only made me more determined but they knew, as I did, that I was powerless. I tried to calm myself to see what would happen next but the steady pressure of the stocking about my head was already making me uncomfortably hot. "Who's going first?" The brunette was definitely in charge but, worryingly, I still had no idea what her intentions were. To begin with I feared that Larina had told them about my new found oral talents but the makeshift gag suggested some different form of mischief. "Well I guess that I'm ready." I turned my head to see who had spoken and found that it was the girl with short red hair and pixie looks who had already supplied her panties. The others gave her room as she approached and playfully pinched my nose. "I'm going to enjoy this." Without any further preamble she stepped over the bench so that she was straddling my face and I found myself staring at her sex which was completely denuded of hair. I had scant seconds to take in the dark, protuberant, labia and to make the connection with the rank panties that still filled my mouth before she lowered herself. I began to panic, fearing she would crush me, but she settled lightly and, immediately she did so, moisture began to slowly leech through the stocking. "Squirming's good" She was clearly enjoying the movements of my head beneath her and so I kept still and tried to calm myself but, as I did so she began to move herself. At first the movements were tiny, as she brushed her sex over my mouth and my flattened nose, but as the area of dampened lycra slowly expanded and crept up over my cheeks towards my eye-line her level of excitement was self-evident. "Go girl!" With the others egging her on she gave an exaggerated groan and then began to ride my face in earnest. She was still bearing her weight on her conditioned dancer's legs but she was rubbing herself from my chin to my forehead. I had never felt so used in all my life but there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. The stocking was sodden but that only seemed to make it easier for her as she began to move ever faster. I closed my eyes praying for it to be over but she was not going to stop until she had reached a climax. Finally, she took hold of the bench with both hands, just above my head, and, moving from the hips alone, she ground out her orgasm. She lifted herself reluctantly and nonchalantly adjusted her skirt leaving me feeling dreadful. My face was flushed with exertion but there was nowhere for the heat to escape to and I was convinced that it would swell horribly were it not for the continued pressure of the stocking. Training Technique I knew that I was being irrational but I was left with little time for reflection. A second girl, a blonde with a passing resemblance to Reese Witherspoon, was already removing her panties and any vague hope that my ordeal was over cruelly evaporated. As she approached I shook my head in fierce denial but she simply laughed. It occurred to me then that they knew that they had all the time in the world. I still hoped that someone would come looking for me but now a new possibility arose. Was my reputation now such that anyone seeing me disappear with four gorgeous dancers would assume that I would want some privacy? This turn of thought froze me for a moment and that was all the incentive the blonde needed. She straddled my head but, unlike her friend, she faced down my body towards my feet. I could see that she too was depilated except for a tiny fringe at the apex which looked like a downward pointing arrowhead but then darkness fell as she sealed me in. She was certainly not put off by the fact that the stocking was already wet and there was to be no gentle start. She immediately began to rake herself over my whole face and it was obvious that the first girls' performance had got to her. She was already wet and the insidious panties soaked up her juices up like a sponge. Breathing was difficult and I tried to swallow to ease my quickly drying throat but there was now no escaping the ever stronger taste which had long since lost its allure. I tried to keep a focus by counting but I repeatedly lost the thread not least because my tormentress insisted on being theatrical. She leaned forward, almost lying flat along my body, and then wiggled her tush. The others found this highly amusing but it resulted in her painfully mashing my face. I growled in frustration, encouraging another burst of laughter, but it resulted in fresh devilment. Without warning she pushed her face down into my crotch and I felt a tiny, but insistent, pressure as she worked her tongue through the swaddling mesh. Her thighs were pressed against my ears but I could hear enough to know that she was doing a passable impression of a porn actress. The problem was that it was so near yet so far. I could feel the warmth of her mouth through my skirt and underwear, and my sex began to react accordingly, but it would never be enough to bring me the satisfaction I sought. It was so cruel. I had longed for something like this but now I was completely powerless. Cheered on by the others she hammed up her performance for a few more minutes but then her own needs overcame her. She sat up once more and began to rub herself over my face with renewed vigour. Her climax was not long in coming and now there was no acting. She braced herself with the simple expedient of pressing down on my breasts and then she let herself go. The panties soaked it up and now, in my own heightened state of arousal, the taste once again acted like a drug fuelling my own desperate need. I knew there was no escape, they would all take their turn, and they were so at ease with one another that it was obvious that they were not new to this - and that gave me hope. The blonde girl had intimated that she was not averse to going down on me; surely once they had taken their pleasure it had be my turn. The next girl was already getting herself ready. She was the one who had led the troupe in a raunchy mambo routine and I was guessing from her colouring that she may have been Cuban. Having slipped out of her panties she slowly and deliberately removed her skirt and then turned slightly towards me. The wetness of the stocking was making it harder to see but I could make out the perfection of her taut buns as she no doubt intended me to. She had long, coltish, legs and the firm, twin, globes, formed a crowning glory. She shimmied playfully and then approached. "Are you ready for me?...because I am more than ready for you." Her pride in her chief asset was obvious as she eased herself into place over my face adopting the same position that her friend had just relinquished. She looked to be the least heavy of the group but, now that she was poised just inches above me, the dark, unblemished, orbs seemed to bespeak a menacing weightiness. She settled slowly, as though aware of the fear she inspired, and as light gave way to pressing darkness I felt a sense of claustrophobia that I had not been aware of with the others. At first, she remained still, demanding admiration, but I desperately wanted her to move; at least then she would not be a dead weight. She had also perspired more than the others and the tiny pocket of air available to me had a briny redolence. When, at last, she did begin to move, I immediately regretted it. Her movements were sinuous as she writhed from the hips and I realized that she was dancing on my face to some unheard tune. With the others there had been a predictable rhythm which allowed me to brace myself and time my breathing but now there was no such luxury. She was literally grinding out her pleasure and the coarse tuft of dark hair that ran the length of her sex felt as if it were abrading my skin. Time seemed to stretch forever but she showed no signs of stopping and certainly no sign of an impending climax. I thought I had reached the depths of misery but I was wrong. Without warning she lifted herself slightly and reached back to take hold of her solidly muscled rump The deep, dark, cleft opened a little and then she lowered herself once more. She was centred over my face which now felt as though it were gripped in a vice. Breathing through my nose was rendered impossible forcing me to draw air through the, by now, fetid panties and this was all part of her design. I became aware of a new movement and it took a few seconds for me to realize that she was masturbating. As well as I could judge her fingers were moving quickly but every now and then she slowed down and leaned forward slightly. I could only guess that she was pausing to push her fingers inside and then the reason became apparent. The panties began to take on a fresh taste which suggested that she had made herself so wet that she was dripping on to them. A fresh outburst of laughter and cheering from the others seemed to confirm this. This went on for some time and all the while my head felt as though it would crack beneath her weight. I was by now in genuine distress. I was incredibly hot but, at the same time, it felt as if I could no longer sweat. Added to this was a craving for fresh air which manifested itself as a dull ache in my chest. I was beginning to think that I should succumb and let myself black out; they would then have no choice but to release me. This was an easy decision to make but much harder to put into practice. I was to find that my body was prepared to fight even though my mind had surrendered Fortunately, my last gasp struggles gave her all the encouragement that she needed and, with a final banshee wail, she started to come. Her friends shouted approval and I could soon feel why. She braced herself against my face and through my sports top I began to feel heavy spatters of warm moisture followed by a final series of lingering droplets heavy enough to be felt through the stocking and panties.. It seemed to take an effort for her to lift herself from me and, once she had, I shook my head in desperation. Had I been capable I would have begged but then it seemed my prayers were answered. The brunette loomed over me and, using the edge of her fingernail, she slit open the stocking over my mouth. I immediately used my tongue to expel the panties and when they almost free she flicked them disdainfully onto the floor My mouth was dry and thick with the taste of them but I was glad just to breathe normally. The urge to swear at them almost overcame me but I was still helpless and so I kept myself in check. If the Cuban girl had been proud of her backside then the brunette was equally proud of her impressive breasts. As I watched she proceeded to undress completely and, once naked, she began to tease her already excited nipples. For a dancer her breasts were large. They were classically shaped, and each would have fitted snuggly into a champagne saucer, but it was her nipples which really demanded attention. The teats themselves were long and tumid, a dark salmon pink standing proud in the wide rosy fields of her areolae. "Suck it..." She bent over me presenting her breast to my mouth and driven by some long-buried instinct I began to lick at it. It felt so right in my mouth, helping me to produce some much needed saliva, and very soon I was sucking it gently between my lips. "Oh sister, you are a natural." Even after all I had been through I took a perverse pride in her praise and when, inevitably, I was called upon to lavish attention on her other breast I found myself desperately trying to please her. I think that she would have been content to let me suckle for hours but I sensed an impatience amongst the others and she reluctantly withdrew. I knew what was coming next, it was confirmed as she rubbed her hand over her mound smearing it with moisture, but I felt that I had made a connection with her. As she looked down at me I must have appeared pathetic, my red, ravaged, face still swathed in the wet, messy, stocking but I tried to plead. "Please, I've had enough..." For a second or two her face took on a sympathetic expression but then she smirked with laughter. "If you think you're leaving me high and dry, forget it. I'm looking forward to some very personal attention." With that she stepped over the bench to present her sex to my mouth but she continued to play the exhibitionist. Looking down she used one hand to stimulate her nipples whilst, with the other, she stroked her prominent labia wafting me with her scent in the process. "Are you ready? I've made myself all creamy just thinking about you." Just to demonstrate her point she opened herself to reveal a wet coral cave strung with gossamer threads which, even now, made my mouth water. I do not know if she came to me or I to her but I thrust my tongue greedily inside and swallowed all she had to give. For a few moments she was content, even amused, to watch me in my feeding frenzy but as my tongue began to have its inevitable effect she focused more fully on her own needs. She moved fractionally so that I could reach her fully engorged clitoris and it took very little thereafter to finish her off. At the point of crisis she took hold of my head in her hands and her weight began to bear down on me until finally her feet left the floor and her legs opened in a wide gymnastic vee. I think that then I finally blacked out. When I managed, once again, to bring my surroundings back into some sort of focus my head felt as if I had been repeatedly coshed and I was stupefied. I dimly registered the brunette getting dressed in the periphery of my vision but then a shadow fell over me. "Wakey, wakey sleepy head. You're not finished yet..." Chapter 6 They left me in the shower where I wanted to remain forever under the comforting warms jets but, out in the real world, there was a flight to catch. My body ached all over and my skin was criss crossed with the imprint of the nylon netting but by the time I had finished washing my hair the marks were already beginning to fade. I feared, for a moment, to go back into the changing area but, whilst their costumes were still there, the room was empty. I was forced to wear my soiled kit in order to make my way back to my own locker room but it seemed that, here too, everyone else had left. I dressed quickly and was able to slip out quietly whilst everyone's attention was focused on the mens final. Under other circumstances I would have stayed to watch but I was in no mood. Whilst the others were to fly back to Denmark I was flying to London. I had some commercial sponsorship obligations and I wanted to meet my parents on their return from their three month sojourn to Australia and New Zealand. For the next few days life returned to something like normal. Eschewing my own flat I stayed with my parents who were overjoyed by my victory but bitterly disappointed that they had missed out on being there to see it by just a couple of days On the sponsorship front my paymasters were equally happy and there was talk of extended contracts. Everything seemed peachy but when the time came to return to Denmark I was a mess of mixed emotions. I now firmly believed that, with Agnetha's guidance, I could go all the way but the question was at what cost. Whilst in England I had even received a congratulatory phone call from John, my former coach. He was his usual flirty self and for a few seconds I felt the return of the old frisson. There was no way that I was going to start up with him again but I was encouraged by this evidence of heterosexual yearnings. Back in Aarhus I had just two weeks to prepare for Danish Open and then the plan was for us all to decamp to Anaheim for the World Championship. I quickly found that the atmosphere in our little community had changed. I continued to remain aloof but both Agnetha and the others seemed to be treating me with a new found respect. Between themselves they still played out their games of forfeits but I was left to my own devices. I trained hard and retired early each night whereupon I would normally masturbate myself to sleep. The trouble was that my fantasies seemed centred on the people around me and I even climaxed whilst conjuring up images of the abuse I had suffered in Holland. In a determined effort to put things right I started surfing the porn channels available on the satellite TV but, whilst I found the boy/girl imagery arousing, I almost invariably flicked to the German girl/girl channel when I needed to climax. By the eve of the Danish open I was badly on edge. When on court I found myself looking at the others in an entirely inappropriate way but, at the same time, I felt so ashamed by what I had already done. That evening I skipped my meal and went straight to my room. I determined that I would not switch on the TV but within half an hour my resolution had crumbled. I was naked on the bed with my hands between my legs when there was a knock at the door. I was tempted to shout out, telling them to go away, but there was a possibility that it might have been Agnetha. I got up, threw on night shirt, and quickly washed my hands. I was surprised to find Katya standing at the door holding two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries. "Can I come in?" I wanted to say no but the local coffee shop was a fair distance from the complex and she had obviously put herself out It was only as I stood aside to let her enter that it occurred to me that there might still be a tell-tale scent in the air but she did not seem to notice. "You missed dinner. I thought you might be hungry." She took out two Danish pastries from the bag and offered me one. They clearly contravened our strict dietary regime but, right then, comfort food was just what I needed. What I thought was coffee turned out to be delicious hot chocolate and whilst we sat and ate we discussed our preparations for the following day's tournament. I had warmed to Katya ever since she had revealed to me the secret of the court markings but I felt awkward because I was sure that she must know about my unsavoury conduct. If this was the case she gave no hint of it and it was comforting to be able to just chat to her as a friend. She was almost four years older than me but, with her blonde curls and a face that was prone to flush easily, she actually looked younger. In fact it was a lethal combination. She had a curvy, mature, figure with a baby doll face and, when we were out in town, men of all ages would be drawn to her. In short, she was enigmatic, and I have to admit that, in my more lurid moments, she had featured in my guilty flights of fancy. I now felt really bad about those improper thoughts. She was a genuinely nice person who was reaching out to me. We talked for another hour or so but I was becoming conscious of the time; I needed a goods nights sleep and there was still a little personal matter that needed attending to. I half stood, dropping a hint, but as she followed suite, quickly trying to finish the dregs of her chocolate she managed to miss her mouth. "Shit." It ran down her chin onto her breasts which were covered by a white cropped sports top. Reacting quickly, and without modesty, she whipped off the top to prevent it from being stained. I had seen her naked on many occasions but the confines of my room conferred an uneasy intimacy. Her breasts were so sharply uplifted as to be almost conical and her nipples formed a pair of delicate dusky crowns. "Can I borrow a towel?" I realized that I had been staring but I watched in fascination as the runnel of chocolate trailed between her breasts and down over the pale plane of her stomach before disappearing into the deep pit of her navel only to reappear once more. I dragged myself back to reality and grabbed a towel from the bathroom. Dashing back I began to dab at her but the chocolate had already begun to seep into her pink jogging pants. "Damn it." She pulled the waist of the pants away from herself slightly and I blotted up the mess but not before noticing that she was not wearing panties. She was totally depilated but for a near invisible blonde furze, which was suggestive of a little laziness on her part, and this now lay revealed by the chocolate. "That will do." She took the towel from me to finish off but, without thought, I took hold of the waistband. "Let me get these into soak, you can borrow a pair of mine." She refused, saying that she would be back in her own room in a trice, but I was already on my knees pulling them playfully, but insistently, down her legs. In the next few seconds the frivolous mood evaporated as the aspect of our new juxtaposition made itself apparent. I looked up at her, unable to read her expression, and she remained awkwardly silent. I wanted her but I had to do something to ease the tension and so, without taking my eyes from hers I leant forward, and licked upwards from the top of her mons to her navel following the residue of the dark sweet trail. She whispered nervously. "I can't do this..." As she said it I felt an almost painful twinge of disappointment but, at the same time, I felt her body shiver with excitement. I trailed my tongue off to one side and, when she raised no further objection, I slowly followed the curve of her pubic bone downwards. I am sure that I caught the faintest hint of her natural musk and I felt my own bodies' sympathetic response but I did not want to frighten her. I eased my way back to my starting point and felt the sharp prickles of young growth as I gently licked her clean. She gave an almost unheard groan and placed an admonitory hand on the top of my head but she made no effort to push me away. Taking this as an encouragement I brought my hands to her hips and slowly eased her jogging pants all the way down her legs. When they were bunched at her ankles I moved my hands slowly upwards over the gentle curves of her calves and the tensed muscles at the back of her thighs until I was cradling the gentle weight of her cute derriere. She gasped and then froze for a few seconds before looking down at me. "I can't ...not with another girl." I was unsure how to respond. Did she want to stop altogether or was she simply saying that she could not reciprocate? She remained very still. Was I expected to get up, to apologize perhaps? In the end my own need drove me to test her resolve. I started to lick once more but began to range ever lower so that my tongue swept over the tight, reluctant slit of her sex.