Tennis Dykes

As she walked off the court, her shoulders slumped, Bekki Scheidner cursed the twist of fate that had drawn her against Martine Novanzerada in the quarter final of the most important tournament of her short career as a professional tennis player. The match had been billed as a generation clash between the eighteen year old German who was showing such promise in her first season as a professional and the forty-four year old East European veteran who had won every trophy and accolade throughout her career and was retiring at the end of this season.

Bekki had been expected to win - or at least put up a decent challenge - but Novanzerada had crushed her like a little bug. To lose was one thing, but to be completely humiliated was quite another. She had not even managed to win a single game. She had played like her racquet was made of lead, while her opponent looked like she was playing a practice match with a little girl.

"Bekki, what happened out there?" her coach demanded angrily. "You weren't even trying."

"Fuck off, Jan," the raven-haired teenager retorted. "I don't want to talk about it with you or with anybody. Right now, I just need to be alone."

It hurt enough to admit to herself the reason for her disastrous performance. Since the age of thirteen, Bekki had been in love with Martine Novanzerada. Her admiration for her greatness as a player had come second to her admiration for the butch Czech's status as the sport's most high profile lesbian. Her feats on the tennis court had inspired the young girl to seek to emulate her, while her posters on her wall and a scrapbook full of salacious gossip concerning her love life had inspired more than a few erotic fantasies. However, unlike her heroine, Bekki was happy to remain a closet dyke - at least for the foreseeable future. When the time came to face the press, she would put today's wretched performance down to fatigue or food poisoning. Nobody but her would ever know the reason her panties had been soaked by the end of the first set.

"Oh god, what's wrong with me?" she sighed, slumping to the bench in the changing room. "I'm supposed to be a pro. I've made such a fool of myself."

At the end of the match, when she had walked up to the net to shake Martine's hand and offer her congratulations, she had met the older woman's eyes for a moment and thought she must surely know. Though they had never met before, Martine's reputation as a predatory lesbian was well earned. She could probably smell another woman's desire for her.

Bekki decided she had to get the hell out of there. She would have time to brood back in her hotel. She stripped in a matter of seconds, angrily flinging her clothes to the floor. She had never felt such inner turmoil, even the first time she had been kissed by another girl. They might have only shared a tennis court, but getting over Martine Novanzerada was not going to be easy.

In the shower, Bekki fought a losing battle to regain some semblance of control over her emotions. She told herself she couldn't be feeling horny - not after what she had just been through - but her body refused to play fair. As she soaped her breasts, she felt her nipples stiffen against her palms. When she shut her eyes, the hands roaming over her body were those of Martine. The fantasy was too powerful to subdue, the desire for this woman too deep rooted. Bekki shuddered as she slipped her right hand between her thighs and vigorously rubbed the shaven mound of her pussy. She tried to hate Novanzerada for the arrogant ease with which she had crushed her challenge, but felt only contempt for her own weakness.

Thrusting out her ass and pressing her face against the white tiled wall, Bekki rammed two fingers deep into her hot, wet slit. She worked them aggressively, back and forth, in and out, seeking to hurt and punish herself but only inflaming her own treacherous passion. She didn't care that somebody might come in. She deserved to be caught in the act, to be exposed and punished for the worthless lesbian slut that she was.

Her climax hit her like a burst of boiling water to her clitoris, washing over her with such power that she slumped to her knees, gasping for breath. She remained in that position for several minutes, her hand still between her thighs, the steaming jets of water beating down on her shoulders.

Still naked and dripping, a towel slung over her shoulder, she walked back out to the changing room. When she saw the figure in tennis whites sitting on the bench, a startled cry burst from her lungs.

Martine Novanzerada smiled. "Hi, Bekki. I thought we might finish our game."

"How did you get in here?" the red faced young woman demanded.

"Are you not glad to see me?" Martine responded, running appreciative eyes over her nakedness.

"You've come to gloat, is that it?" Bekki snapped. "Okay, Martine, you proved you can put a young pretender in her place. I'm sure tomorrow's papers will....................."

She stopped in mid-sentence, when she realized Martine had picked up her damp white panties from the floor and was running them between her fingers, as if the lace were made of gold. Smiling at her shocked expression, the tennis queen raised them to her nose and inhaled deeply.

"Mmmmmmmmmm, you smell as divine as you look. It's a shame you had time to shower before I got here."

"Please leave," Bekki told her, feeling her anger give way to something more disconcerting. "I don't want you here."

Martine rose to her feet. But instead of leaving, she undid her short tennis skirt and allowed it to fall to the floor. Her shirt followed. Bekki had been moving to cover herself up, but the sight of her goddess standing before her in nothing but tennis shoes and high cut white cotton panties caused her to drop her towel. She remembered watching Martine play on TV and hoping to catch a glimpse of her underwear as she chased the ball. She might be more than twice her age, but the Czech was still a lesbian wet dream, her bronzed body honed to a near masculine physique.

"Do you really want me to leave, or should we finish our game?" she asked, after a few moments.

"I think you know the answer to that," Bekki replied unsteadily.

Martine smiled triumphantly. This young beauty had been almost too easy to conquer, both on and off court. She surrendered even before she drew her against her and kissed her on the lips.

The humiliation of their match no longer mattered. Bekki responded hungrily to Martine's fevered kiss, thrusting her tongue into her mouth. The water streaming down her body soaked through the older woman's tennis whites. Marine cupped the firm globes of her ass with both hands and thrust her crotch against Bekki's wet mound. Though she had cum only five minutes earlier, the teenager felt the liquid fire surge between her thighs again. She gripped Martine in a crushing embrace, as though terrified she might suddenly dissolve into thin air.

They continued to french kiss until they were breathless. When they finally parted, a silvery thread of saliva hung between their lower lips.

"Wow!" Bekki gasped.

Martine did not reply. Instead, she spun the younger woman around and pushed her against the wall. As she fell to her knees, Bekki spread her legs and pushed out her ass.

"Such a beautiful girl!" Martine purred, digging her fingers into her creamy rear cheeks and parting them to fully expose her.

Bekki's hairless cunt was like a flower in full bloom, the crinkled pink folds glistening with water and love honey. Martine licked her puckering outer lips, then plunged her tongue into the soaking slash, eliciting a loud squeal of ecstasy. The old pro would be proud to be caught in the act of licking out this sweet young thing and Bekki was too far-gone to care.

She had been with older, experienced lesbian lovers before, but Martine Novanzerada was in a class of her own. Face buried between Bekki's buttocks, she fucked her long and deep with her tongue, probing her as she had never been probed before, lashing at the throbbing stalk of her clitoris. The younger woman ground her hips, riding her face and smearing her in her honey. Martine slurped noisily at her love hole, sucking her sticky nectar like a vampire. Just when Bekki thought she could get no closer to heaven, she pushed a thumb into her asshole. Moments later, her body was rocked by the most explosive orgasm she had ever known. Even then, Martine was not finished feasting. She gorged herself on a second helping of sweet cunt, until Bekki was close to yet another climax, then licked the pinky brown rosebud of her asshole, before pushing her tongue into the tight orifice.

By the time her lover finally raised her head again, Bekki was as sweaty and breathless as if she had just gone another three grueling sets on the tennis court. Grabbing her by the hair, Martine wrenched her head back and kissed her again. Bekki sucked on her tongue, tasting her own cunt in her mouth. She had heard that Martine sometimes liked to play rough. She just hoped it was true.

As though reading her mind, the older woman twisted a handful of her hair until she started to whimper, then pushed her to her knees.

"Want some cunt, you hot little bitch?" she growled.

"Your cunt!" Bekki gasped. "I want your cunt!"

Martine pushed her head between her thighs. Her panties were soaking and she smelled of sweat and love juices. The heavy scent of her womanhood was intoxicating. Bekki nuzzled the wet cotton with her nose and tongue, feeling the heat of her cunt through the thin fabric. She grabbed at the waistband, but Martine slapped her hand away.

"Use your teeth, like a dog bitch!" she commanded.

Bekki sucked the cotton for another moment, then gripped it with her teeth and tugged with all her might. Shaking her head like a frenzied mutt, she ripped Martine's panties apart, exposing the wet, dark blonde thatched treasure beneath. How many horny young sluts had feasted here? How many times had she dreamed she was one of them?

When Martine's panties hung in shreds, she dived into her sweltering slit with her tongue. She was smothered in the older woman's damp pubic hair and copious love honey, but had no desire to come up for breath. This was Novanzerada - the dyke queen of professional tennis. So what if she had failed to beat her on the court? She could at least prove she was her equal when it came to eating cunt.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh..............., you sexy little slut..............., ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh..............., that's it!" Martine gasped, pulling her hair and riding her face as though intent on crushing her.

Bekki had never sampled a woman so wet. She was practically drowning in Martine's juices. The sticky cream filled her nose and mouth and trickled down her chin. She spread her slick folds with her thumbs and burrowed deep into the fleshy canal, sucking her rock hard clitoris and lapping at her hungry hole until her tongue hurt. As she climaxed, Martine clenched her muscular thighs, gripping the helpless girl like a vice.

"Oh, you are good!" Martine panted, finally releasing her. "I knew you would be, of course.

It took her only a minute to get dressed again. Slumped against the wall, red faced and breathless, Bekki wiped her juices from her face and licked her fingers clean. She knew what had just happened was a once off. Martine Novanzerada used and discarded girls like her as casually as she did tennis balls.

Their match was best forgotten, but Bekki would forever treasure the memory of the afternoon she had played her favorite game with her goddess.

THE END