Chapter 1

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It is a regular session; Stan and I play tennis on public courts in the afternoon. Two old gits, trying to imagine they were still able to play a decent game. Stan, at seventy-six, is well past his prime, but we have a lot of fun and we get out in the open.

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One fine summer afternoon, we arrived to find a pair of girls on the other court. They looked to be late teens or early twenties with lithe bodies, tanned legs, and as pretty as any man could desire.

We started our games, but after a half hour, Stan needed a break, so we stood by the boundary nets to have a drink. Just after this, the two girls came off for the same reason, and as we sipped our juice, one of them came over to us and started to talk to me.

"Hi guys, would you like to make up a doubles game?”

I was struck by her beautiful Scots accent, the lovely soft, east coast version, not the harsh voice of a Glaswegian. Her blond hair was bunched up in a ponytail. I thought how lovely it would be to release those locks and run my fingers down the full length.

“I don’t know if we’re good enough for you two.”

“I’ve been watching your play and think it would work.”

“OK, who is the stronger player?”

Pointing at her partner by the other court, “She is.”

“Then I should partner with you; Stan is not as strong as me.”

She looked at me, nodded, and gave me a broad smile.

“Fine, I’m Kirsten.”

“Hi, Kirsten, I’m Stefan.”

Thus, an unusual age-paired doubles began. Kirsten won the toss, so I had the first service. As I prepared to serve, she bent down in front of me, her bum outlined below her short skirt.

“Concentrate, Stefan, concentrate.”

Just as I tossed the ball up, a breeze lifted her skirt and dropped it over her back. Now I could see a pair of white panties stretched over her cheeks. My concentration was destroyed, and the serve went straight into the net, as did the second.

Every time I served something similar occurred, sometimes she wiggled her bum at me, a real big wiggle, not the little just-getting-comfortable type. My serves are usually quite consistent, but not this time. I could not get her out of my mind. The inevitable consequence was that we lost the set, even though Kirsten was an excellent player.

As we packed up our bags, Kirsten kept giving me little glances; I could not understand why. My first thought was that she was wondering how I came to muck up my serves. Her friend left quickly, saying she had to get somewhere fast. Stan ambled off next, and as he disappeared around a corner, Kirsten put a hand on my upper arm, leaned against me, and whispered in my ear.

“Would you like to play with me?

I looked into her beautiful eyes and said, “Very much.”

"Och, aye, you take first serve.”

The double-entendre was so obvious, I was sure she had been winding me up, but you never know!

I walked to the far end, tossed the ball high, and made a perfect hit, landing the ball on the T. Kirsten didn’t expect it. Too fast and too accurate for her.

I thought, “There's still life in the old dog!”

But that was the highlight of my game; she was much more agile and far too good for me. By the fifth game, I was four down, at love-thirty, when I hit another ace serve. Kirsten twisted and stretched to get it, but was overbalanced, fell heavily onto the tarmac, and stayed down.

Full of guilt, I rushed to her and kneeled at her side.

“Are you alright?”

“Ah, shite, fannybaws. Everything hurts.”

Looking a bit queasy, she sat up, inspected her racquet arm, and rubbed the grazes a bit before looking at her leg and inspecting another grazed area. Neither showed any sign of bleeding, but the redness was obvious and meant she would be very sore the next day.

I stood up and offered her my hand, which she grasped firmly as I pulled her to her feet. However, as soon as she put weight on her legs, it was clear she was in pain, and she immediately sat down again. I lowered myself down beside her and asked where it hurt.

Kirsten stroked the inside of her thigh.

“Here, I’ve pulled a muscle.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Yes, Stefan, massage the area, please.”

So I placed my hands on her skin and started to knead her soft flesh. The knuckles of one hand were under the hem of her little skirt. I felt a bit uncomfortable being in such proximity to a very young woman in a public place, but Kirsten seemed unfazed and laid back on the court, completely at ease.

“Up a bit, please, Stefan.”

I shifted the work area further up her leg. Now both sets of knuckles were under her skirt.

“Up a bit more, please.”

This second shift left the knuckle of my little finger rubbing up and down her panties.

“Keep going; that’s just right.”

Her eyes closed, her breathing deepened, and I realised my massaging had become more than a bit of physio.

“Harder, please, harder.”

I pushed my hand deeper into her crotch. There was no pretence now; I knew what she wanted.

Her ending came, but there was nothing dramatic. Her leg muscles went into spasm, her ankles drummed on the ground, her breaths came in short bursts, and for a few seconds, her back arched off the ground.

“Thank you, Stefan; that was bonnie.”

Kirsten smiled broadly, then lifted a hand to her mouth and blew a kiss at me. It was tender and erotic.

I helped her up again, but it was obvious she was still in pain; the damaged muscle was real.

“How are you getting home?”

"Normally, I walk back; it’s about fifteen minutes to my parents’ house.”

“Then I think I should give you a lift; you can’t walk that far in pain.”

“Thanks, Stefan. I’ll take your offer.”

Half supporting her as she hobbled, we walked back to my car. All the way, I was conscious of the warmth of her body pressed against me, my mind constantly flashing back to the orgasm I had given her a few moments earlier.

As I drove out from the car park, I glanced across at her lovely legs stretched into the footwell, thinking of the lucky boyfriend that would be getting between them, perhaps this evening.

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Chapter 2

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“Dad and Mum are away; you can park in our driveway.”

I turned the wheel to pass through the gap in the high hedge surrounding the front garden before the wheels crunched over the gravel parking area in front of a large detached house.

Out of the car, I opened her door and offered my hand to pull her up. Kirsten leaned into me again and handed me her tennis bag to carry as we resumed the hobbling walk to the front door. She pushed her key into the lock, turned the handle, and gingerly walked inside unaided. I followed a pace behind.

She grinned. “We had to make it look bad, just in case any of the neighbours were peering over the hedge from their upstairs. Come with me.”

Kirsten started up the stairs carefully, hanging on the bannisters, taking one step at a time. I followed with her bag.

On the landing, she hobbled across and pushed open the door to her room. My first impression was of a teenage girl’s room; pinks and roses were the dominant colours, with a selection of fluffy toys on the pillow.

The most prominent feature was a large poster-sized photo on a wardrobe door. Not some pop idol, but Kirsten herself sat on a handsome, jet-black horse, holding a trophy. Her top was so tight that her nipples and areola protruded through the cloth. Her breeches were so tight that every fold of her flesh was visible as if she were naked. I was certain I would have seen her vulva impressed into the stretchy material if it were not hidden from view.

That picture was intensely erotic, and I stood there in awe.

“Oh, God, you are a stunner.”

I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“Thanks, Stefan, but the real thing is standing next to you.”

I turned to look at her, and then she put one hand behind my head and pulled my lips onto hers. Kirsten’s tongue pushed deep into my mouth. She sought and found mine. Just a couple of seconds passed before she drew back and looked into my eyes.

“I’m a nineteen-year-old slut, and I am yours today, yours however you want.”

“Are you sure?”

It was a daft question, but my mind was in a whirl.

“I get turned on by old men, and you are definitely old, Stefan. When was the last time you had a nineteen-year-old empaled on your cock?”

“About forty years ago.”

“Then it’s about time you had a chance to remember how it was when you were young.”

I lifted my hand and stroked her long, blond tresses.

“Angelica is blond too, so it will not change completely.”

“You can take me, Stefan, or I can take you. Which one is it to be?”

“I don’t know; I’ve not been with a slut before. I’m not sure what to do or what that means.”

“It means I am insatiable, I will screw any man at any time, and I’m completely amoral. All I want is my satisfaction.”

I stood transfixed, overwhelmed by her sexual aggression.

“Well, I am going to take you, Stefan. You will be my auld gadgie, my sex toy, so whether you enjoy what’s coming is, by the way, ‘cus it’s all for me. Geddit?”

“Err, yes, I think.”

She grabbed my polo shirt at the hem on two sides, then pulled it up.

“Let’s git this off.”

I raised my arms to help, and in a trice, I was half naked in front of her. Kirsten stood, staring at my chest, and lifted her hands to gently brush the hairs surrounding my nipples.

“I luve white hair on a man, it's so sexy.”

With that, she softly touched my nipples, circling her fingers around the hardening points before bending forward and sucking each one.

“That’s very nice; not many women know that a man’s nipples are just as sensitive as hers.”

She lifted her face and smiled at me, then rolled each one between two fingers. I was entranced by this girl, completely smitten by her sexuality, until the moment the tweaking turned into a fierce pinch, and my pleasure turned to severe pain as she pulled hard on both pieces of sensitised flesh.

“I’m a complete bitch as well as a slut.”

I groaned and gasped, my eyes screwed shut with my teeth grinding together in a vain attempt to staunch the agony.

“Please stop; it hurts horribly.”

The pressure relented, but the pain went on.

“Ye wee bairn! Take off your shorts and pants; I wanna see your tadger.”

I pulled both down, then kicked them off over my court shoes. In the process, I looked down at my hard cock as it sprung forth, released from its cloth prison.

Kirsten’s hands moved down from my chest, and her fingers started to play with my pubes. She looked down at the foreskin pulled tight over my glans, the small bit of red flesh visible covered in the slime of pre-cum fluid.

“You have a braw tadger there, Stefan, and white pubes too. A bonus pair for me.”

Her fingers slid along my shaft, and then one played around in the wet space, circling gently. I was totally relaxed, completely unprepared for the sudden violent jerk as she wrapped her fingers around my shaft and pulled my foreskin back.

“Aargh!”

Then she grasped my sack with her other hand, pulling the two in opposite directions while twisting and squeezing hard with both hands. I was in agony and sank to my knees in front of her. As I went down, she released her grip, just before I rolled to my side, scrunched in a foetal ball on the floor.

From the floor, I looked up; she was like a goddess towering over me, gloating at the way she had reduced me to a quivering wreck. I watched as she pulled her tennis shirt over her head, reached behind her back, and released her bra. I saw her beautiful, firm breasts come free before she unhitched her little skirt and let it drop to the floor.

“Sit up, Stefan. Don’t be a feartie.”

So I struggled back to kneeling, the pain between my legs gradually reducing. Kirsten moved closer and closer, and my vision became filled with her white panties before she thrust her mound into my face.

“You spent the whole of the match partnering with me, gawping at my knickers, so now you can have your dafty face full of them.”

She ground herself into me, her hands behind my head, her panties pressed into my face. I could smell her sex and feel the dampness remaining from the orgasm I had given her on the court. I knew she was well aroused but completely unsure as to where we were heading; however, the strength of my erection indicated I was quite happy to follow wherever she led.

As her hips rotated, one of her hands pushed down inside her panties, and then she started to frig herself rapidly. I sat back a bit, watching the show from very close quarters.

“Pull my knickers down, Stefan, get rid of them.”

Dutifully, I hooked a thumb under the waistband on each side and slid the offending garment down to her ankles, then gently lifted each foot, one after the other, before throwing them aside.

“Take my tennis shoes off.”

I bent over to release the lace on each shoe before pulling it off her foot. It gave me the chance to stroke her perfectly formed shins. There was an erotic charge in that room as my fingers explored more of her lower legs, feeling her softness. 

I sank onto my knees, facing the space between her legs, lost in an erotic reverie as she used her fingers to part her pussy lips. I stared at her glistening rosebud, slimy residues of her juices, almost beckoning me in to lick the stiff protuberance of her clitoris.

Kirsten started to masturbate, her fingers taking the place where, a second before, I had imagined my tongue.

“Come close, Stefan; lick my pussy as I cum.”

I shuffled forward and tilted my head back to view her wet, swollen lips churning from the force of her fingers.

“I’m gaunnea cum, nou!”

Suddenly I saw a great blob of white slime trickle out from her pussy; not only was she cumming, but she was also ejaculating. I pushed up and opened my mouth under the source of her nectar. Then Kirsten grabbed my head and forced herself onto my face as her body went into a series of violent spasms. The dribble of slime turned into a veritable torrent, and my mouth was working overtime to pass it down to my throat.

When her hand withdrew, I let my mouth and tongue take its place, licking her hard clit as well as the mixture of her lube and ejaculate. Every time I hit the top of her clit her whole body shuddered, and she bore down hard on my face.

“Get up, Stefan."

Shakily, I rose to my feet and looked at my teenage slut. She burst into a fit of giggles, then pointed to one side. I looked in the same direction and saw myself in a mirror on the wall. My face was plastered with her juices, cum and lube, all mixed, with one large drip hanging from the end of my nose. I turned back to her, grabbed her head, and forced my messy face against her cheeks, brow, and chin before finally mashing my lips on hers.

It was a very lengthy kiss.

Kirsten broke the spell by pulling away, and then lying on her back on her bed’s duvet. She opened her legs wide, placed the soles of her feet together, then put both her hands back on her pussy, opening the lips wide so I could see her cunt and the hard knob of her clit.

“Watch your slut cum again!”

With that, she started to masturbate vigorously. The only sound was her increasingly fast breathing and the slopping of her fingers around her pussy. I was caught up in a trap. I needed relief and started to wank my hard cock, but at the same time, I was trying desperately to avoid going too far. I felt there was a lot more she wanted from me first.

Kirsten’s orgasm was good; her hips bounced on the bed, and her head tipped back with her eyes tightly closed. As her orgasm receded, she raised her head a little and looked at me.

“Don’t cum, Stefan; I want you to fuck me right now.”

So I climbed on top of her, positioned my cock at the entrance to her hole, thrust in, and started to pound her hard.

“Fuck me, fuck your slut. Do you like having a slut?”

“Yes, Kirsten, I love fucking my slut.”

“I love being fucked by an auld gadgie. If you think you’re my first, then think again. I had three old guys at the courts once; we went in the bushes, and I swallowed all their loads, one after the other.”

“Yeah, but today my load is going inside you, slut.”

“Yes, breed me; breed your slut.”

The banter went on, each exchange acting as another erotic stimulation.

“I’m gaunnae cum; fuck ye slut harder.”

“Look at me, slut; look at me while you cum.”

I felt her body stiffen, her back arched, her head back, her eyes fixed on my face until the last moment, then her eyeballs rotated up, and then there was nothing to see other than whiteness. Kirsten screamed; her head rolled left and right violently, and her body flexed underneath me many times.

The whole scene precipitated my orgasm; my cock felt like it was on fire, and the surge of cum flowing down inside me felt like a knife slicing through my body. I screamed, and I lost all control over my body, which jerked and thrust over her as my life juice flooded into her tunnel.

We lay there, both panting hard, my softening cock still inside.

“I want to suck you now. Remember, I’m an insatiable slut.”

As I rolled my weary body over to meet her request, I glanced down and saw a big grin on her face.

“Whatever my slutty one wants, the slutty one gets.”

So I shuffled up until my head was on the pillow, then watched as she leaned over my hips and took my stiff, wet cock in her mouth before her lips closed around my cockhead.

Every touch of her was ecstasy, and every cell she touched was still fully aroused. As post-coital pleasuring goes, it was perfect.

Then I felt a vibration on my calf; she was frigging herself again. Insatiable indeed!

Three times more, Kirsten came, each one marked by vigorous thrusting and rolling. Her groans were stifled by my cock in her mouth.

Finally, she pulled my soft shaft from her mouth.

“Yer slut is satisfied.”

I slipped my hand up her face, smoothing the skin on her cheek.

“Yer slut is wanting a coorie.”

“What?”

“Cuddle me, Stefan. Your slut wants a cuddle.”

So we lay together on her bed, the two of us covered by her duvet, shattered physically and sated sexually. Kirsten drifted off to sleep. I watched her eyelids droop, then shut. Her breath deepened, and I looked at her flawless skin, the beautiful hair cascading over her pillow, and pined for the perfection of youth.

Slowly, I disentangled myself, slid off the bed, and found my clothes. Looking down, I realised my court shoes and tennis socks were still on my feet; in the erotic stripping of our clothes, they had become forgotten.

Ready to leave I kneeled by Kirsten’s bed, stroked her cheek for the last time, and kissed her gently on the lips.

“See you on court, slut.”

She stirred at my words and touch, and then her eyes flickered open.

“Maybe, auld yin.”