The cold inconsistent wind was irritating her, blowing her long brown bangs into her eyes, swirling around her bare legs, and teasingly lifting her short blue skirt. Emma cursed her uniform under her breath. It was autumn and the temperature was dropping, even as the breeze swept golden brown leaves onto the court.
Emma took a slow breath, knocking stray thoughts out of her tired head. Her eyes focused and landed on the small yellow ball in her hand. She forced herself to rest for a moment, not rush, visualize the two circular motions she was about to perform. If she could just picture it perfectly in her mind then her body would follow.
The racket in her right hand dropped downwards and, as it began the upward swing, her knees started to bend. Her left hand lifted and the ball shot out of her hand straight up. Her right hand finished the arc of the first circle and smoothly transitioned into the second, dropping behind her back. Emma slowed as she waited for the ball to hang lightly in the air, having reached its highest point. It spun gently in the wind but luckily had not been pushed out of reach.
Then Emma released all that energy, caught in the wound up spring of her body, as her legs straightened and her body turned to face her opponent, and her racket completed the second circle with incredible speed. The racket slammed into the ball flat and with a WHAM,
the ball flew across the court into the service box and with its bounce skimmed low against the ground. There was no way anyone could return that.
“LET,” shouted her opponent.
Emma cursed audibly, ignoring the disapproving grimace of her coach at the side of the court. How could she have hit the net for the third time? Was that even possible? It was the second serve of the breakpoint of the tiebreaker of two sets and all she had to do was hit one serve in, and it would be over.
“Go Emma,” called a high-pitched girly voice from behind her.
Emma smiled as she identified her best friend from the crowd. Quite a few people were watching them because they were the last match still playing. Unfortunately, the majority of them were friends and coaches of the opposing team, and Emma hated being watched by people she didn’t know.
Fed up with this game, Emma removed the tennis ball tucked in her spandex shorts under her skirt. She glared at the flouncing stuck-up girl opposing her. The girl couldn’t hit a ball right! All she did was lob the ball or slice it. Emma didn’t bother to think this time, and tossing the ball high up into the air, she let it collide with the downward swing of her racket a fraction too late.
The ball slammed into the net. The opposing team burst into cheers, their stupid girl jumping in the air. Emma walked up to the net to shake her hand but the little brat had forgotten her manners and ran off the court.
Depressed and exhausted, Emma picked up the tennis balls, zipped up her tennis racket, and walked off the court to be greeted by her teammates and coach.
“Good match, Emma,” said her team’s best player Karen. “You played really well against a hard opponent. Especially as a JV player in a Varsity match.”
Emma smiled and thanked her. Varsity or whatever, she should’ve won. Her team circled her with consoling words. At least the team as a whole won. And that also meant Emma was one of the few players that lost her match. She was glad she was driving herself home instead of taking the bus, since all her teammates would want to celebrate their overall success.
As they were leaving, the coach pulled Emma aside.
“Emma, you played pretty well in this last match.” Emma’s coach was a tough teacher from her high school that used to play and teach tennis when she was younger. “But I think you could’ve won too. I want you to start taking private lessons each week with a friend of mine. He’s a great coach and he’ll help you put more spin on your serve so you can serve consistently without hitting the net. Same with your forehand. You need to use more top-spin and learn how to use back-spin to keep the opponent guessing. Hitting everything hard and flat may help hit winners, but you need more consistency.”
Her heart sinking, Emma agreed, and was handed the business card of her coach’s friend. To Emma, spin was the way bad players got away with weak shots. Now she would have to be taught
how to do that?
Jack was surprised when his friend Laura had asked him to teach one of her girls how to hit with more spin. It was unusual for a girl to have a habit of hitting too flat, purely because girls usually embrace the fact that spin allows them to make up for the fact they don’t have as much strength as guys. Perhaps she was a boyish, buff girl? But talking on the phone with Emma he had heard a soft, timid voice, and he was very curious to meet the girl.
That Saturday as he wrapped up a lesson with one of the guys he taught, he noticed a thin figure approaching the court. Was this Emma? As she drew closer Jack realized she was strikingly attractive, her tennis dress showing off a feminine small waist and flared hips. She was perhaps five and a half feet tall, and her slim build supported a nice set of breasts, perhaps a size B. He couldn’t quite place her ethnicity or where she came from, but she had long black hair bound into a high ponytail, and a softly defined face with light brown eyes.
“Excuse me, are you Jack Berenguier?” she asked.
“Yes. You must be Emma,” said Jack reaching out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Emma gripped his hand lightly before quickly withdrawing her hand. Jack had a warm friendly smile, but Emma seemed rather nervous. That was not unusual though, since Jack was a big guy, with a muscular build and broad shoulders instead of the slim frame many tennis players had.
“It’s nice to meet you too. Um… You didn’t specify on the phone, but how long will this lesson be?” asked Emma politely as she took out her racket and laid her case on the bench by the court.
Jack flipped open his phone and checked his calendar.
“Actually, you’re my last student today, so the lesson can go on as long as you’d like.”
Bluntly Emma said, “Okay, I was just wondering since I’d like to learn what I need to in just one lesson. Do you think that’ll be possible?”
“What, you already don’t like me that much?” exclaimed Jack, jokingly.
Emma blushed, to Jack’s slight surprise.
“No,” she said, smiling for the first time. “I just hate using spin, that’s all. I’d rather not spend weeks learning it.”
“Why don’t you like spin?” he asked.
Emma seemed unwilling to answer.
Jack quickly continued, “Well I suppose you could learn how to hit a shot with spin in one lesson. But you wouldn’t learn how to really manipulate the spin in each shot without repeated practice. And at the end of this lesson,” he added, “you won’t hate spin anymore.”
Emma was content with the response, and they walked out onto the court to get started.
First Jack wanted to get an idea of Emma’s range of shots. He asked her to hit back each ball without regard to aim as long as it went in. Emma was quick-footed and reached every ball he tossed to her, whether it was in the service box, at the baseline, or further back. He soon realized that Emma did not hit flat because she had a lot of strength, but instead because she would align herself with each ball and allow the torque of her body and swing to slam into the ball, increasing speed, and sending the ball flying back. What incredible power she would have if she used top spin.
Not that she didn’t have quite a bit of top spin already. Jack guessed that Emma wasn’t aware at all that merely from hitting each ball from the bottom, giving her the most strength, she was spinning the ball upwards so it fell back in the court. She just didn’t apply any spin on purpose, so her shots were low to the ground, and those hit from close to the net tended to go out or in the net.
After confirming that Emma indeed knew the principle of top spin (to hit from under the ball upwards so that it spins forwards), Jack started her on a series of challenges, such as hitting a low ball from the service line into a service box, or hitting a shot more than 10 feet above the net, but still landing in. Emma felt very silly trying to lob balls and hit them way up in the air. It was the sort of thing she had done when she had first started playing, at age 8.
But Jack quickly showed her that lobs were worth it. He would hit a ball high up into the air and not only would it have the sun behind it, the ball would land directly on the baseline, and jump another 12 feet up! He explained that the ball would only jump so high if aided by top spin, since the ball would contact the ground, and keep spinning up and forwards. Such shots made it impossible for the opponent to hit the tennis ball back.
Four hours passed with few breaks in between, as Emma did not tire easily. Jack was pleased to see that Emma had definitely begun applying more and more spin to her shots, and was even learning very fast how different amounts could affect her placement. As they took a break, Emma grinned at him. She was no longer shy, having spent quite a bit of time angrily trying to hit him with tennis balls, since he gave himself as a target, and said to her “I bet you can’t.”
“Are you starting to see how spin might be a good thing?” Jack asked.
“I dunno,” said Emma. “I still feel spin is kinda... weak?” She looked at him tentatively. “I mean, it’s what all the girls use.”
Jack started to laugh. “The top tennis players, male and female alike, all use top spin! You can’t hit hard and fast without it, otherwise your shots would all go out. You use spin naturally too, my dear, even if you’re not aware of it. Think about how much power you’d have if you could force the opponent to back up to the baseline because you hit it over their head, or bring them to the net because you drop shot them.”
Emma still seemed a bit unconvinced. Jack had seen that she could hit with spin just fine, but it was going to be more about mentally convincing her that spin would give her more power.
“After you go home, watch some professional tennis matches on TV, okay? You’ll see that they all use spin.” Jack checked his watch as Emma nodded. It was getting late, already 6 o’clock, and the sun would be behind the mountains soon. “I just have one last challenge for you for today.”
Emma’s eyes lit up. Jack had thought at first she really was only playing tennis for the competitive side of it, hitting flat shots for the thrill of hitting winners, but he could see now that she actually played for herself, to challenge herself further. Once she got over this initial stubbornness towards spin he was sure she would enjoy learning new strokes. Hopefully with him, because he was rather starting to like her.
Jack placed an empty soda can on the service line, and stood between it and the net.
“Hit a ball over my head and aim to hit the soda can,” he told Emma, “If you can I’ll buy you a drink.”
Such a projectile would require a perfect amount of spin. Emma dropped a ball and swung her racket without hesitation.
“Woo!” shouted Emma. The air was startled and took a moment before settling back into a blanket of calm. “First try! And you said I couldn’t learn to use spin in one lesson.”
She stuck her tongue out at Jack playfully, then ran to pick up the tennis balls.
“Lucky shot,” grumbled Jack, realizing suddenly that lately he had been lacking female company, and Emma’s playfulness was a welcome change.
The sun cast out its blinding rays in a final good night call to earth’s creatures, and both Jack and Emma shaded their eyes as they left the court. The court they had been using was part of a fitness center which had a bar and restaurant at the side. Emma expressed her desire to quickly take a shower before he bought her a drink, so Jack waited for a little while before she reappeared.
Emma had gotten changed into a casual skirt and a cute pink tank top, and Jack had to remind himself that this was a high school student, and it would be very inappropriate for him to make any advances. She was probably still a minor. She looked around 16.
As he walked her to the restaurant, he attempted some small talk to figure out her age. “So are you on varsity on your school team?”
Emma shook her head. “No, I’m number one JV. Which is unfortunate because this is my last year. I should’ve practiced harder over the summer, and got into varsity.”
“Well your school has an excellent team, especially with Laura as your coach. You should be proud to be top of JV. So you're a senior? I would’ve guessed a sophomore or junior.”
Emma smiled ruefully, saying, “Yeah, everyone says I look younger than I am. I’m actually gonna be 19 in just a couple months.”
Oh she’s legal, Jack caught himself thinking. They sat down at a table for two by a window.
“Are you hungry?” Jack asked. “I’ll buy you an early dinner if you like.”
Emma was pleased and agreed.
“I live at home but my parents are out of town so I’ve been living off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches,” she complained. She pouted and glanced at Jack sideways.
Emma leisurely flipped through the menu, asking Jack what was good since she’d never eaten here before. She ended up choosing fish and chips while Jack ordered a BLT panini. They had not, however, ordered drinks yet, which of course was the main part of the deal.
“Can I get a mimosa?” asked Emma coyly.
“Of course not. You’re underage,” said Jack firmly. “Besides, if a young lady like yourself is intoxicated, a man might try to take advantage of you,” he added with a grin, wondering if his joke was a step too far for such a young girl.
“I think a bigger problem then would not be intoxication, since mimosas have barely any alcohol, but instead how well I pretend to be drunk.” A coquettish smile played on Emma’s lips.
As a waiter then approached Emma quickly ordered a strawberry lemonade. Jack, feeling it would not be fair to drink alcohol when his companion could not, ordered a Coca Cola. Emma laughed at him, calling him silly and refusing to say why.
Dinner was somewhat of a blur to Jack, as they covered so many topics in their conversation. He was impressed with Emma’s in-depth plans for her future with everything she wanted to accomplish, from traveling the world, to running businesses, to funding libraries, to being highly successful in her career. This, however, was where she dropped off into confusion, because she had no idea what career to go into. Emma was astonishingly intelligent and passed all her classes with high grades, having already achieved admission to many top universities, and scholarships to several of them. But it obviously worried her that she had not decided on a degree or field, and Jack hurried to reassure her that it was not a decision to be made without a good length of thought.
Jack also told Emma about how he had actually spent several years in the military, and upon returning had decided to take up once more the sport he had loved as a child. He had actually only moved here about a year before for the coaching job, and so he had a limited number of friends and acquaintances. However he cheerfully proclaimed that this was the best paying coach job he had ever had, since they were in a rich part of town. Emma got the distinct feeling that Jack was lonely, and as their conversation moved on to other subjects, she idly wondered what she could do about it.
By the time the waiter handed Jack the bill, it was nearing 8 o’clock.
“Are you driving home?” Jack asked.
“No, I actually live less than a mile from here. I’ll walk home.” Emma eyed the bill, trying to catch a glimpse of the overall cost of the meal, but Jack kept it carefully tilted away.
“When it’s dark out? There’s no way I’ll let you walk by yourself.” Jack placed his card in the bill and gave it to the waiter.
“Ok.” Emma smiled slightly.
The bill was swiftly returned and Jack added a tip and signed his name and they stood to leave. As they stepped outside, a sudden chilly wind crept between them, and Emma shivered visibly.
“I’m cold,” she commented unnecessarily.
“Well of course you are, you’re dressed for summer.”
Jack removed his jacket and placed it carefully over her shoulders, smiling at the innocence of such a classic moment. Emma led the way as he walked her home, and they chatted amiably.
Emma lived in a middle class neighborhood, ironically one of the poorer parts of this ridiculously rich district of town, since it wasn’t gated, and houses probably cost less than a half million. Emma had a very pretty corner house with a well-kept front yard and a cobblestone pathway up to her front door.
As they reached the door Emma took off his jacket and returned it to Jack.
“Well you certainly did learn spin a lot faster than I expected in our lesson today. But you can’t tell me you still hate spin,” Jack said.
Emma adopted a thoughtful expression. “No. I suppose I don’t hate spin anymore. In fact, I’ve decided to add a little more spin to our evening.”
She grabbed his hand, and standing on tiptoe, kissed a rather stunned Jack lightly on the lips!
“I’ve decided I’m taking you home tonight. Come inside.” Emma opened the door and ushered him inside.
“I’m used to taking a girl back to my place, not the other way around,” commented Jack, feeling a rush of adrenaline. Did the girl know what she was doing? She certainly acted like she did.
“I actually lied, my parents aren’t out of town for the weekend, they’re out of town for the whole month. Do you really want to leave me all alone in this big house? And I think it’s good to turn things around every once in a while. I bet my bed is nicer than yours anyway,” Emma said sweetly.
Without letting go of his hand, she led Jack through a dimly lit hallway to her bedroom.
“So is this something you, uh, do often?” Jack asked tentatively, wondering how much he needed to reassess Emma’s shyness and innocence.
Emma laughed. “No, no. You’re the first man I’ve brought home. Actually, I don’t think ever let a boy into my room before. You know high school boys. They’re so into car sex and going to an apartment and stuff,” she said grimacing.
Emma clicked the lights on and sat down on her bed, letting Jack look around, taking in not only the full size bed in her room, but also the neat desk, a bookshelf filled to the brim with books, and a comfy sofa chair with a book resting on one arm. But Jack had caught the word “sex” in what she had said, and there wasn’t much space for other thoughts in his mind.
“I dunno, I guess it’s weird I feel so comfortable bringing you here,” said Emma. “But somehow talking to you and having dinner with you, everything felt right. And it doesn’t help that you’re so much more handsome and mature than the high school boys I’m used to seeing.”
She smiled at the end, and Jack got the impression he was being teased, yet at the same time couldn’t help feeling flattered. Emma took both his hands and pulled him down to sit by her on the bed. She leaned close to him and he finally took the hint to pull her into a soft kiss, much longer than their first but no less stunning.
They came away breathless, and as Emma leaned in for another kiss, and yet another, Jack’s hands strayed to her waist, lifting her tank top. Emma lifted her arms in response and he lifted the shirt over her head, his eyes quickly taking in her smooth flat belly, her elegant pink bra lined with thin white lace, and the delicate breasts that rested within.
Jack stood up and quietly closed the door and turned off the lights. Even with the window curtains drawn, a small amount of street light entered the room, making it easy for Jack to see Emma even in the dark. He returned to her, and she pulled at his shirt playfully, so he took it off. He pushed her back onto the bed and allowed himself to be pulled down as well, his hands following the curve of her body. She, too, let her hands wander over his chest, giggling softly as she felt his toned muscles, wishing he had kept the light on a bit longer so she could’ve have seen him shirtless, not just feel it.
Jack kissed her and her eyes closed as he let one of his hands land on her thigh, moving upward under her skirt.
“You are so amazing,” Emma murmured as their lips parted.
Jack laughed quietly. “Why is that?” he asked, but she didn't answer.
With his other hand he reached behind her and in one swift movement undid her bra. She pulled it off the rest of the way and laid it beside the bed.
He cupped her breasts with his hands, gently squeezing. Jack let his thumb roll over her nipple and it was already firm. He moved down and took one nipple in his mouth, sucking and flicking lightly with his tongue, while teasing the other with his thumb and index finger, pinching just hard enough to hear Emma moan, but with care, since he could tell that this girl was very delicate.
Emma pulled at his shorts impatiently, bringing them down to his knees, but unable to undress him any more than that because Jack had her pinned down. He moved his hand to her inner thigh and reached her panties. He was surprised how wet she was. He could feel it through the silky material. At the same time, he realized he was now fully hard, his cock pressing against the confining material of his boxers. With rising urgency he pulled her skirt off. He pulled her panties off. He wanted her. He needed her. He wanted to be in
her, and as he looked into her eyes, he knew she felt it too.
Jack spread her legs and let his fingers explore Emma’s smooth pussy, feeling her warm juices urging him to slide inside. He teased her clit, making Emma grab at the sheets and close her eyes from pleasure. At first, to his surprise, he thought he could not determine her scent, and then he found it, distinct and amazingly sweet. He thought about going down on her, but that was not what he wanted right then. His cock throbbed, and he leaned down to kiss her fervently.
“Please,” said Emma, “I want to feel you inside me.” He would have plenty of time to go down on her a different night, or perhaps even in the morning, because Jack, though he barely was conscious of it, did not think of Emma as a one night stand, far from it. To both of them, this was the beginning of a connection that would only grow stronger as time passed.
As his thumb stroked her clit, Jack undid his boxers and let his hard cock eagerly spring out. He rubbed the head against her pussy lips, coating it with her juices. He hoped he would not hurt her, because his cock was on the larger side, but she was so wet he thought she would be fine. He could not hold back any longer and he pushed slowly inside of her.
“Oh Jack,” gasped Emma, as he slid all the way in, feeling her tight pussy sucking his cock inwards. He pulled out almost all the way, then thrust back in, and again, feeling her hips gyrating in response. He grabbed one of her breasts and squeezed, without ceasing to stroke and tease her clit with his other hand.
Both were breathing raggedly, and as Jack thrust faster and faster, never had Emma felt so much sensation throughout her entire body. Not knowing what to do with her hands she threw them around Jack’s neck and torso, pulling him closer and kissing him. He responded by moving instead to kiss her neck and then back to her lips. It drove him wild as she kissed his neck as well, and kissed his ear.
Jack wanted to finish at the same time as she, so he held back, but he knew he could not hold back much longer. When he heard Emma cry out, “Jack, I’m going to cum!”, he thrust and thrust deep into her for a final time and his cum shot out, filling her as she collapsed into spasms of orgasm. He slowed his hand on her clit, extending her orgasm. He felt her trembling and they were both breathing hard as they separated for a moment, then came back together to cuddle in her bed.
They lay there in silence for several minutes, exhausted. Emma felt like she was in heaven just being held by Jack’s strong warm arms.
“So,” said Jack awkwardly, not wanting to break the silence but needing to ask. “You are on the pill right?”
Emma laughed, “Yes. You sound like a teenage boy,” she teased him. “Worried about getting me pregnant. I am a woman you know. I know how to take care of myself.”
“Yes my dear,” said Jack, “I’ll take care of you too. I suppose you’re willing to come get another lesson from me on spin then?”
“Hmm,” said Emma, a mischievous tone in her voice. “Perhaps if you promise to give me a lesson on spin afterwards, that doesn’t have to do with tennis?”
And Jack was left wondering if this second lesson on spin would really be taught by him, or if it would be taught be her?
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