Confessions. Various

end of the first set I was sweating with more than exertion under the hot sun. The sight of Carrie stretching and straining, running, leaping up and leaning into a serve, the sound of her high-pitched grunting and groaning, had me bathed in perspiration more than just weather-related. I took a few balls off the body and head, when I didn’t keep my eyes on the fuzzy sphere, too busy ogling its mistress.

      She jogged up to the net, racquet and towel and water bottle in hand. She tossed the towel at me, then tilted her long neck back and squirted water down her silken throat. I wiped off my sweating face, keeping my eyes free to see.

      ‘Wanna drink?’ she asked after swallowing beautifully.

      I swallowed dry. ‘Sure.’

      She squirted me right in the face.

      ‘Hey!’

      ‘Sorry, just couldn’t resist,’ she said, laughing. She handed me the water bottle, then plucked the towel out of my hand and proceeded to dry off my moistened face.

      My body burned even hotter, the girl crowding closer to me, pushing against the net. She patted down my flushed face, moved the towel lower, on to my flushed chest.

      I was wearing just a tank-top and shorts like she was. And as she rubbed over the top of my chest, the long nipples on my little boobs sproinged out even longer, almost piercing my top with desire. I squirted water on my chin, missing my mouth, maybe accidentally, maybe deliberately. Forcing Carrie to keep toweling, caressing.

      When the fluffy white cloth brushed over my stiffened buds, propelled by the girl’s graceful hands, I couldn’t help but gasp. My nipples are as sensitive as my feelings, as easily aroused.

      ‘Whoops, sorry!’ Carrie said. ‘Shall we get back to the game?’

      My legs would barely carry me back to the baseline, they were so weak.

      It took the tennis goddess only about another half-hour to polish me off three sets to love.

      ‘Why don’t we go back to my place?’ she suggested, after nailing down the last spike to put my game out of its misery. ‘You can have a cold drink, or grab a shower, if you want. My parents are away for the weekend.’

      I bobbed my head, then trailed after Carrie’s lithesome legs to her car, keeping an eye on her sweet twitching butt cheeks. Her car was an old beater as befitted an eighteen-year-old. I gratefully climbed in and she cranked up the gusty a/c. We shared some of our life stories as she drove us to her parents’ neat little white bungalow ten blocks over.

      ‘I’m going to take a shower. Help yourself to anything in the fridge.’ She threw her racquet on to the living-room couch and skipped off down the hall, peeling off her tank-top.

      I had a glimpse of bare bronzed, supple-muscled back, before Carrie jumped into the bathroom and closed the door. I staggered into the kitchen, poured myself an ice-cold glass of water that did nothing to cool me down as I chugged.

      I placed the empty glass on the counter, then walked down the hallway, up to the bathroom door. I could hear the hiss of hot water, maybe the sound of someone scrubbing their hot naked body. I put a shaky hand against the woodwork. I had to go in, take the plunge.

      I dropped my hand down on to the doorknob, gripped it, turned it, pushed the door open a crack. Hot steam billowed into my eyes and nose, as I thrust the peeking face-parts into the opening.

      There was a glass partition that rose up from the lip of the bathtub, hiding the sexy shower participant within. Or almost hiding her. The glass was fogged, but I could still clearly see Carrie’s long, lean naked outline, the sensuous form of her golden-brown body. I swallowed humid air in a gasp and pushed the bathroom door open further, just enough gap to allow me to slip inside the heated, cloudy haven with the honey.

      The glass went almost all the way up to the ceiling, so Carrie couldn’t see me through her side of the dewed pane. But I could see her, tilting her head back and letting the needles of soothing, singeing water splash against her chest, spray all over her breasts. There wasn’t a tanline anywhere, just delicious, sunkissed babe from head to toe. I moved closer, licking my lips, the glistening girl in the glass cage drawing me like a beacon.

      I stopped when she suddenly started humming. She was rubbing soap on to her chest now, a pink bar that she smoothed over and under her firm breasts, circled around the twin pointing, tan tips. I stared like a star-struck tennis fan meeting her racquet idol, following Carrie’s every stroking motion in the tub.

      Her tank-top and short-shorts were half hanging out of the laundry hamper. I stretched out a hand and grabbed on to her discarded game gear, clutched the bits of cloth to my chest, then my face, watching while the girl sudsed up her jutting breasts.

      The soft white cotton tennis togs were drenched in her perfume and perspiration. I pressed them to my nose and mouth, inhaling deeply, gazing at the girl buffing her bod in the shower. My face and body surged with heat, the billowing clouds of steam carrying me away. I rubbed the dampened clothing all over my face, my cheeks, nose, lips, and I shivered, despite the heat.

      Clenching the clothing to my face with my left hand, I slid my right downward, on to my breasts. My knees buckled, as my quivering fingers tripped my stiffened nipples, sending shockwaves singing through my body. I strummed the stuck-out pair of shimmering buds, then washed the palm of my hand all around my buzzing breasts, emulating sweet Carrie caressing her golden body in the steamy dunk tank. She had all the right equipment, and skills, for this game, too, and I just couldn’t let the opportunity pass without applauding her talents.

      She turned around and let the water splash against her curved back, rubbing the bar of soap over her burgeoned, bouncy butt cheeks. My own hand shot around behind me, on to my bum. I rubbed the cheeky pair, breathing Carrie’s clothes and essence, staring at the shining girl stripped down to her bare essentials. She slid the soap in between her buttocks and scrubbed, and my hand gripped one of my trembling cheeks, fingernails biting in like my teeth into the sporty girl’s top and bottom.

      Carrie spun back around in the shower and soaped her long legs. I took the chance of scrabbling my shorts open, shooing them down my legs, baring my beating pussy. My dark trimmed fur was matted with moisture, slit tingling out in the open, in front of the bathing nude hottie.

      Carrie’s hands slid back up on to her chest. I glided my hand back on to my tits, caressing, clasping, choking. And then the soap and her hand dived down her slender body, over her flat tummy, in between her legs. She rubbed her pussy, shuddering slightly, so it seemed to my shaky vision. My hand jumped off my tits and over my stomach and on to my equally bare, almost equally wet pussy.