Serving Up Desire
Michelle and I have a late night tennis lesson with our instructor, Tyler. Little does he know Michelle has other plans. Sparks fly as a friendly match of two on one turns into a game of strip tennis.
Author's Note: This is a retelling of Chapter 4 from my book Serving Up Desire, part of my Skylar's Swinger Stories series. The original story is told from my perspective, but this version is from Tyler's point of view. Tyler is Michelle's and my tennis instructor, and this story features a rather interesting lesson we had with him after hours at the tennis center. Also, check out my NSFW images from Serving Up Desire:
I checked my watch for the third time as I gathered my equipment. Nine PM was an unusual time for a tennis lesson, especially on a Monday when the club was officially closed. But when Mrs. Larsen had asked for a private session with her friend Mrs. Reyes, I hadn't been able to say no. The extra money would help, and Mrs. Larsen was one of my most enthusiastic and devoted students.
Still, something felt off about the request. The way she had insisted on the late hour, mentioning that they needed privacy to work on "special techniques," had made me nervous. I'd tried to push down the inappropriate thoughts that kept creeping into my mind about both women, but it was getting harder each week. I could kick myself for having taken my shirt off to let them see my tattoos. What had I been thinking?
I grabbed my bag and headed toward the courts, my beat-up Nissan Sentra looking pathetic in the empty parking lot. Most of the club members drove cars worth more than I made in a year, but at least my reliable old sedan got me where I needed to go.
The courts felt different at night. The bright lights created stark shadows, and the usual sounds of the club were replaced by an almost eerie quiet. I went through my warm-up routine, trying to shake off my nerves. Whatever Mrs. Larsen had planned, I needed to stay professional. This job was too important to mess up.
The sound of approaching voices made me look up. Mrs. Larsen and Mrs. Reyes were walking toward the court, and I felt my breath catch. Mrs. Larsen wore a light blue tennis outfit that seemed more revealing than usual, and Mrs. Reyes looked incredible in a similar pink ensemble. The way the court lights highlighted their figures made my mouth go dry.
"Tyler!" Mrs. Larsen called out, her smile radiant even from a distance.
I jogged over to greet them, trying to keep my expression neutral despite the way my pulse quickened. "Mrs. Larsen, Mrs. Reyes. Thanks for being flexible with the timing."
Mrs. Larsen wrapped me in a hug that lasted longer than our usual professional greeting, and I caught a hint of her perfume. When Mrs. Reyes hugged me next, I felt her breasts through her outfit and had to fight to keep my thoughts from turning inappropriate.
"We really appreciate you staying late," Mrs. Reyes said, her dark eyes meeting mine.
