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Message-ID: <30619asstr$991732204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: malinov@mindless.com (Lord Malinov)
Reply-To: malinov@mindless.com
Subject: {ASSM} <Dulcinea> Love by Lord Malinov
Date: Tue,  5 Jun 2001 05:10:04 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Love
by Lord Malinov
 <malinov@mindless.com> 

~~~

"Do you want to play for favors?" she asked, taking the 
balls from his hand.

"Sure," he replied tentatively, unsure what she meant 
by this offer, but feeling sure that it must be good.  
Love showing in his grin, he watched her walking away.  
A friendly breeze blew as she reached the service line, 
immodestly lifting her pleated blue skirt.  "Oh, yes."  
Mesmerized, he backed away slowly.  Her blonde hair 
danced in the gusts of wind.  His gaze drank her 
beauty, keen on her lean legs and freckled shoulders.  
She bounced a ball rhythmically.  He stopped at the 
baseline and crouched slightly, both hands firm on his 
racket.

"First set," she said.  "Love, love."

He stared intently as she tossed the ball high in the 
air.  He knew her game well enough to know that he had 
to be on his toes.  Her skirt floated slightly as she 
reached up to strike her serve, affording him a 
brief glimpse of her pale blue panties.  His eyes 
opened wide in hungry amazement.  The ball sailed past 
him.

"Good serve," he called out to her as he sent the ball 
back to her.

As he walked to the other end of the baseline, he began 
to wonder again what she meant, exactly, by "favors."  
Assuming he won, he'd get to indulge in her favors.  
That seemed a reasonable conclusion.  What was less 
certain was what did it mean if he lost?  If she 
indulged in his favors, wouldn't he be indulging in 
hers as well?  

"Fifteen, love." she called out as she again lifted the 
ball high in the air.  A hearty gust afforded him a 
longer glimpse of her panties, but he fought the 
natural impulse to linger on the vision for a tense 
moment, trying desperately to keep his mind on the ball 
that had begun to fly toward him.  He cocked his racket 
and sent the ball back with a flick of his wrist.  She 
reacted quickly, dashing to her left and swatting a 
sharp backhand.  Her left boob lifted slightly in the 
motion, revealing a crescent of her dark areola over 
the top edge of her spaghetti-strap black shirt.  He 
swung at the ball whizzing past him and buried it in 
the net.

Shaking his head, he walked, wondering if she meant 
that she would deny him favors if she won.  Hardly a 
prize for her, but maybe she just wanted to torment 
him.  Only way to be certain of getting favors was to 
win the match.

"Thirty, love," she said.  A bit of the pretty nipple 
still showed slightly as she tossed the ball, but when 
her racket rose to strike the ball, the breast rose and 
her entire nipple popped free.  The ball roared past 
him as he stood, drop jawed, staring at her naked boob.

Looking down at her chest, she laughed and tugged 
cotton shirt up to cover her tit.  "Am I distracting 
you?" she called out.

"Yes," he replied, "I would say so."  He hit the ball 
gently, sending it back to her.

"Sorry," she said, catching it in her left hand and 
lifting her skirt to push the second ball under the 
elastic of her panties.

"I don't mind," he said, walking to the ad side.  He 
crouched, twirling his racket in his hands.  "Not at 
all."

"Forty, love."  He smiled to watch her skirt rise and 
fall.  Pale blue panties, lean thighs, wisps of blonde 
hair.  Her breasts bounced gently, stiff nipples 
bulging beneath her black shirt.  Sweet, loving smile.  
The ball skipped past him.

She kissed him as they changed ends.  He liked the fire 
in her eyes.

"Zero, one," he said, still smiling.  "Love, all.

~~~
Love
by Lord Malinov
 <malinov@mindless.com> 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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