Tempting Rallies: Forbidden Strokes at Azure Bay
Under the relentless sun of Azure Bay, where the sea crashed like a lover’s urgent breath against the cliffs, Elena stepped off the sleek regional train two days early for the WTA Azure Bay Open. At 38, the veteran tennis pro had legs that could crush a man’s resolve—toned from years of sprints and leaps—and a body that still turned heads, her full C-cups straining against sports bras during serves. Her raven hair fell in a practical bob, framing sharp green eyes that hid a storm of unquenched fire. Back home, her partner Marcus juggled their 10-year-old twins and his remote finance gig, but tour life gnawed at her, tempting her with isolation and itch.
She’d heard whispers from tour vets about “stroke specialists”—local hires who knew every court’s quirks and offered post-match relief. Not just ball boys, these were pros at handling more than rackets. Tempting, she’d thought at first, dismissing it as locker-room exaggeration. But after a solo dinner of salty sea air and mediocre pasta, curiosity pulled her to the hotel bar.
There sat Nadia and Kira, fellow pros she’d crossed rackets with in Madrid. Glasses clinked amid laughter. “Elena! Join us. You look like you need loosening up.”
“This place got decent ball handlers?” Elena slid onto a stool, the leather sticking to her tanned thighs.
Nadia grinned, her bleached blonde ponytail swinging. “Oh honey, better. Stroke specialists. Mine’s Rocco—carries gear, reads winds, and eats pussy like it’s his religion.”
Kira, all curves and caramel skin, leaned in. “Mine’s Lena, a switch-hitter. Last year, she had me screaming on the baseline during lunch break. Nearly tanked my doubles.”
Elena’s pulse quickened. Tempting. Her mind flashed to Marcus, faithful but distant via video calls. “How’s it work? These aren’t just groupies?”
“Paid service, discreet. They caddy your game first, fuck the stress out after. Rocco cost me 10% of winnings or $1200 flat—worth every cent.” Nadia sipped her wine, eyes gleaming.
By night’s end, Elena had a name: Alex, 22, fresh-faced with a surfer’s build, sun-bleached hair, and rumors of stamina that could outlast a five-setter. Jump to Chapter 2
Chapter 1: The First Rally 🔥
Morning fog clung to the clay courts like a teasing veil as Elena stretched on the practice baseline. Her muscles hummed, tank top damp already. Alex arrived punctual, lugging her bag with ease, his blue board shorts hugging lean hips. Up close, he was tempting—piercing gray eyes, stubble shadowing a jaw that promised grit.
“Morning. Alex. I track winds here, measure every bounce. Let’s dial your backhand.”
She nodded, serving first. Balls flew like accusations. He called yardages flawlessly, adjusted for cross-breezes. No cologne, just clean sweat and ocean salt—intoxicating up close, bodies brushing during club swaps. Tempting to test the rumors now.
After an hour, sweat-slick, she leaned on her racket. “Heard about the… extras. From Nadia.”
Alex didn’t flinch, wiping his brow. “On court, it’s tennis only. No distractions. Lunch: oral if you want. Post-round: full menu. STD-free monthly, always protected. Foreplay specialist—nipples to toes. Six inches hard, but I deliver multiples. No kissing, no emotions. Pain-free unless specified.”
Her core clenched. Matter-of-fact, like discussing spin rates. “Rate?”
“9% winnings or $1100/day min. Your call post-tourney.”
“Deal.” Handshake electric. As he set up drills, Elena imagined that voice murmuring filth. Tempting didn’t cover it—this was a siren call.
Practice blurred: her serves cracking, his advice sharpening her edge. By noon, leaderboard projections had her top-10 potential. Hunger gnawed—not just for food.
Off-court, new scene: beach walk. Waves licked her bare feet, sand gritty between toes. Alex trailed, silent. “Ever fuck here?” she probed.
“Not during tourney week. Focus first.” But his gaze lingered on her bikini lines peeking under shorts. Tension coiled like a serve.
Shadows of Doubt
Back at hotel, Elena showered, steam fogging mirrors. Marcus texted: Missing you. Kids ask for beach pics. Guilt twisted, but so did arousal. Alex was a transaction, right? No strings. Yet the thought of his tongue tracing her seams made her fingers wander, slick folds parting under hot water. She came quick, gasping his name—practice for later. Jump to Chapter 3
Chapter 2: Midday Breaker 💋
Lunch break after five games: Elena’s group led packs. Courtside tent smelled of sunscreen and exertion. “Skip food,” she murmured, eyes locked on Alex. “My suite. Ten minutes.”
He nodded, vanishing to “clean gear.” Door knock—heart slamming. She wore tennis skirt hiked high, no panties, sports bra unlaced. Alex entered, shed shorts. His cock hung heavy, veined, circumcised tip gleaming.
“Kneel.” Voice husky. He obeyed, but she halted him. “Here first.” She dropped to chair, spreading thighs. He washed hands, knelt between. No words—tongue dove in.
Hot, flat laps up her slit, tasting salt-sweat mix. Fingers parted lips, nose bumping clit. She gripped racket for anchor as he sucked—wet pops echoing. “Fuck, yes… deeper.” Crude urge escaped.
He hummed vibration into her, two fingers curling inside, hooking that spot. Build savage: thighs quaked, vision starred. She ground face-first, flooding his mouth. Orgasm ripped—silent scream, nails in scalp.
Panting, she pushed him back. “Your turn.” His erection throbbed, pre-cum beading. She engulfed it—no teeth, throat relaxing like pro. Salty tang burst, veins pulsing on tongue. Slow at first, savoring girth stretching lips. Balls cupped, heavy orbs rolling.
“Ma’am… time…” He groaned rare.
She edged him merciless—suck to base, pop off, tongue swirl head. Drool trailed, shiny strand snapping. Fist pumped base, twisting. He bucked—warning twitch. “Not yet. Save for tonight.”
Denied, pants bulging, they raced back. Her serves post-break? Lethal. Birdie-equivalent aces piled. He’d cracked her shell, now she craved shattering his cool. Jump to Chapter 4
Chapter 3: Night Serves Unleashed
Dinner with Nadia and Kira buzzed post-round—Elena third overall. Wine flowed red as temptation. “Alex got you glowing,” Kira teased.
“Teased him on court. ‘Gonna smother your face later.'” Laughter erupted.
Back at suite, balcony view: moonlit bay, salt breeze whispering. Elena in silk robe, bare beneath. Alex arrived showered, towel-dried skin glowing. “Foreplay first?”
“Breasts. Now.” Robe pooled. He latched nipple—suckling wet, teeth grazing peaks. Hands kneaded full globes, thumbs circling areolas. Moan escaped, electric zings to clit.
She guided down—torso trail of kisses, navel tongue-fucked. Thighs parted; he devoured. No rush: lips on inner thighs, breath ghosting heat. Then feast—lapping folds like melting ice cream, clit flicked precise.
“Three, Alex. Earn ’em.” Hips bucked first wave, gush sweet on his chin. Second built slower, fingers plunging knuckle-deep, palm grinding mound. Third? She flipped 69, ass to his chest. Her mouth devoured cock—throat-fuck sloppy, gags wet. “Come with me,” legs clamped skull, grinding nose-deep.
He bucked, ropes erupting—splattering cheek, hair sticky. She milked dry, cum warm dribbles on tongue swallowed.
Afterglow: bodies slick, hearts thundering. “Insane,” he panted. Tenderness crept—fingers tracing her quivering abs. No rush to leave; he massaged calves, exhaustion melting into bond. Sleep claimed her, dreams of baselines blurring to beds.
Waves of Want
New dawn, new tease. Practice courts empty save them. “Tonight, ride you reverse. Feel that ass slap?”
“Wind shifting left. Aim cross-court.” Unfazed, but crotch twitched. Media swarmed post-acers; she winked filthy promise off-mic. Tempting to drag him behind stands, but game first.
Night two: he ghosted. Text: Girlfriend crisis. Rain check. Disappointment stung hotter than loss. Alone, fingers futile—craved his girth. Jump to Chapter 5
Chapter 4: Doubles Tease
Day three: Elena clawed to second, aces booming. Lunch: surprise—Mia, Alex’s girl, joined. Petite firecracker, fiery red pixie cut, pert B-cups, endless legs in cutoff denim. Jasmine scent mingled sweat.
“Heard you’re ruining my man,” Mia purred, thigh brushing Elena’s under table. “Tonight, we play doubles. I’ll show pussy paradise.”
Alex shifted, bulge evident. “Her call.”
Back nine equivalent: Elena dominated, but mind raced to Mia’s “opening licks, clit last.” Dropped game, refocused—putaway winner for lead.
Suite post-dinner: electric. Mia first—robe shed, bodies collided. Mia’s mouth masterful: nipple bites drawing blood-taste copper, fingers scissoring deep. “Taste me?” Elena knelt, first woman ever. Mia’s slit bald, pink, honey-dripping. Tentative lap—musky sweet exploded. Clit sucked, Mia bucked cursing “Fuck yes, deeper!”
Alex watched, stroking rigid length. Joined: Mia 69 on Elena, Alex rear-entry doggy. Condom-sheathed thrust—pounded hilt-deep, balls slapping clit. Elena muffled screams into Mia’s heat, orgasm chaining.
Switch: Elena reverse on Alex, ass bouncing, Mia strap-on from behind—double stuffed, impossible stretch. Screams raw, “Rip my cunt! Harder!” Cum tsunami—his load filling latex, hers squirting arcs.
New scene: balcony finish. Mia face-sat Elena, grinding to shatter. Alex anal-plunged Mia whimpering. Sensory storm: sea roar, sweat-salt lick, flesh slaps, cum musk thick. After, tangled limbs, whispers. Marcus faded ghost; this raw connection real.
Cracks in Armor
Guilt flickered dawn—texts home sweet lies. But power surged: top seed now. Alex and Mia? Addicts tempting fate. Jump to Chapter 6
Chapter 5: Championship Climax 🔥
Final day: semis pressure cooker. Elena visualized strokes—Mia’s tongue, Alex’s girth. “Tonight, all holes. No mercy.”
“Pin back-left. Club up.” He replied cool, but eyes burned. She aced serves, volleys vicious. Lead by game five.
Lunch threesome quick: suite frenzy. Mia fisted Elena slow, knuckles stretching to wrist-depth—first time, burning ecstasy. Alex throat-fucked, balls on chin gagging. Swallow load, pussy gape pulsing.
Afternoon: tied sets. Crowd roar faded; only their pact mattered. Match point: blistering forehand winner. Victory sealed—trophy gleam under lights.
Celebration suite: champagne popped, bodies oiled slick. Alex double-penetrated with Mia’s toy—cunt and ass stuffed, her screams echoing bay. “Breed me! Fill every fucking hole!” Crude begs met: condoms burst optional, hot jets painting walls inside.
Mia scissored Elena, clits grinding sparks, Alex jerk-fueled titty-fuck ropes arcing mouths. Orgasms layered: hers endless waves crashing, limbs jelly.
Tender Tiebreak
Aftermath heavy: exhaustion sweet ache, bruises badges. Huddled sheets damp, fingers interlaced. “Next year?” Elena whispered.
“Booked.” Alex grinned. Mia kissed soft. Tempting future beckoned—tour life reborn filthy. Elena paid generous—percentages forgotten in bliss. Home call loomed, but Azure Bay’s salt lingered skin, a tempting secret etched soul-deep.
Tournament faded; desires endured. She left train-rolling, body humming new rhythms. Marcus waited oblivious; her fire, self-fueled now.
Chapter 6: Echoes on the Baseline 💋
Weeks later, home clay court backyard. Elena served alone, muscles memory-haunted. Flashback reel: Alex’s girth splitting, Mia’s nails raking back bloody trails. Tempting recollections soaked shorts.
Marcus watched puzzled. “You’re… different. Glowing.”
“Tour wins sharpen.” Lie smooth. Night: she rode him fierce, imagining duo. His confusion morphed moans.
Email pinged: Azure next year? Team ready. -A&M Reply instant: All in.
New conflict brewed: pregnancy scare? Nah, protected. But hunger permanent. Tour loomed, promising rallies rawer, strokes deeper. Elena smiled mirror—green eyes wicked. Tempting evolution: from pro to predator.
End circled: Azure Bay siren song. She packed early, legs itching baselines, holes aching fills. Game on.
(Word count: 5824)
