This story is intended for the enjoyment of adults over the age of 18 or whatever the legal age is in your part of the universe. It contains fantasy scenes of graphic sexual activity.   Please, if you are under the age of 18, or if you will be offended by such material, use your intelligence and read no further - delete file.  Otherwise ....enjoy! Pleae note: This work is copywited to Nessus and is not to be used for commercial by others. This includes posting on pay sites 

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A Coaching Technique.

By Nessus

FD CB Humil Mast

Tennis has always been my life since I was a small boy in Mexico City. My father was the head gardener at an estate owned by a very important man and he used to take me with him so I could hit the balls on the court.

I had a talent and I used it to travel the world playing tennis and enjoying the young women who follow the game. Women were attracted to me and I easily won them but, after a while,  I stopped winning the tournaments. Now, at twenty-four I wondered if I had squandered my talent.

At least that’s what my coach said as he walked out. “You’ve fucked it up, Emillio,” he said as he walked out of the Paris hotel bedroom where he had found me with the wife of a tournament official. “You’ve lost the will to play and you’re only interested in whores!” With that, he flew back to Mexico.

That night, I sought advice from a fellow player, Steve, a young Australian who has won two Grand Slam tournaments and I have never managed to beat.  “Get a new coach,” he said as he swigged on his mineral water and I noticed a young woman at the bar eyeing us.

“It is not that simple,” I moaned.

“Don’t get all fucking emotional on me, Em,” he said calmly. “Just get a new coach and focus on the game, not on the women.”

“Steve,” I said, nudging his arm, “that blonde girl at the bar wants you. I can see it in her eyes.”

“Not interested,” he said matter of factly as he took another swig of the water. “I have a girl friend back in Brisbane and I’m getting married next September.”

“She won’t know,” I urged, smiling at the girl.

“But I will. Look, Em, do you want to talk to me or do you want to fuck that girl?”

“Steve,” I protested. “I’m a changed man.”

“I bet,” he said in that dry Australian tone. Do you know that Johnny has retired?’

“No!” I said shocked, as Johnny was only three years older than I was. 

“Yep. Can’t blame him. He’s won it all. He’s going back to New York. That means,” he added meaningfully, “that Ingrid Svenson is free to take on other players.”

Ingrid Svenson , the Iron Swede, was one of the few female coaches that worked with male players. She had been a cold disciplined player on the court and brought those same characteristics to her coaching. Every player she had worked with had won at least one big tournament but strangely, she never coached women.

“She wouldn’t take me on,” I said ruefully. “I’m not ranked high enough.”

“Neither was Johnny when she started coaching him.” We sat in silence for a moment. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

“You know her?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, she’s a friend of mine and we have a similar approach to discipline. She’s here in Paris and I can set up a meeting.” Steve stood and looked down at me as I smiled again at the blonde girl at the bar. “Do you want me to set it up, Em?” he snapped.

“Why not?” I shrugged. “It can not hurt, my friend.” Steve said goodnight and I headed over to the blonde girl.

The telephone bell sounded like a fire alarm as I struggled to wake up. “Allo,” I said groggily into the phone by the bed, looking around to see if the blonde girl was still there. She wasn’t, just a note on the pillow which I crumpled up without reading it and threw onto the floor. 

“You awake?” Steve’s Australian drawl sounded in my ear.

“Of course,” I lied. “I’ve been up for hours.”

“Bullshit,” he said succinctly. “Ingrid will meet you on the terrace at one. Don’t be late, Em. She’s got a thing about being punctual.”

For once, I was on time and I sat waiting for Ingrid as I surveyed the world through my sunglasses. Suddenly, she was standing in front of me, dressed in a black top and leather trousers. Her blonde hair was pulled back and gold jewellery glittered against her honey coloured skin, her eyes were hidden behind gold rimmed sunglasses. “Emillio Sanchez,” she said coolly, extending her hand. 

I took her hand. “It is exciting to meet you,” I said, putting on my best boyish smile, which she totally ignored as she sat.

“I’m sure it is,” she said sarcastically in that clipped accent Swedes adopt when they speak English. Could this woman be blind to my charm? Perhaps it is true she is a lesbian? “Steve tells me you are looking for a coach?”

“Yes, I am without a coach at the moment. And you are without players?”

“Johnny has announced his retirement according to our plan,” she stated. “I have no plans to coach. I am seeing you because Steve is a great player and a good friend.”

“I need a coach,” I said.

“No one will coach you. You have no discipline,” she said flatly.

“I will learn,” I said dramatically.  “I need to learn as I can not return to Mexico a failure.” For the next hour I attempted to persuade her as she sipped her juice and picked at a plate of fresh fruit. “You must help me or I am doomed!” I finally begged.

Ingrid laughed. “Such a passionate boy. However, I understand you can not follow rules?’

“Who would say such a thing! “

“Everybody,” she said simply. “You would have to follow my rules. It is essential for my coaching technique to be successful.”

“You have my word,” I vowed, one hand raised.

She laughed coldly. “I will have more than that.”

The contract was simple. She would get a very large percentage of my earnings, I would follow her every instruction and if I had not won a Grand Slam tournament within one year, the contract was void. I didn’t need long to think it over and I didn’t read it very carefully before I signed.

Ingrid flew back to Stockholm, leaving me with arrangements for a medical examination and plans to meet in Las Vegas for training in a week’s time. The medical examination was very thorough and I was a little embarrassed when the doctor measured my cock and balls. What could that have to do with Ingrid’s coaching technique, I wondered?

I flew into McCarran International in Vegas and took a limo to the address Ingrid had given me. Ingrid’s coaching camp was not luxurious and was completely secluded from the temptations of the Vegas strip. I checked into a sparse bungalow, changed into my tennis gear and began warming up on the courts.

A beautiful young woman in tight white shorts and a blue top, which accentuated her large breasts, introduced herself. “I’m Kimberley,” she said in a slow Southern drawl as she tied her thick dark hair into a ponytail. “Your fitness trainer.”

“I am very pleased to meet you,” I said taking her hand and kissing it. When I looked up I was surprised by her cool expression and I realised my charm was not working. She jammed a cap on her head and led me to the gym. For the next two hours, Kimberley tested every aspect of my fitness and I was sweating and exhausted when we finished.

I met with Ingrid in the afternoon and she was not impressed with Kimberley ’s report. “You are terribly unfit,” she declared flatly. “You will never win with that level of fitness. Kimberley will improve you,” she said with a heavy finality.

“I’ll work hard,” I said in a tone of voice that I hoped would persuade Ingrid of my humbleness. It was disturbing my charm was having no effect.

“I know you will,” she said, leaning back in her chair, studying me across the desk. “It is time Emillio, to explain the technique I will use to coach you.” Ingrid reached into a drawer and placed a tube made of thick perspex with an equally thick perspex ring attached to it.

“What is that?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“It is a chastity tube,” she said calmly. “It fits over your penis to control your impulses. It is a very clever device that will be locked on and will still enable you to move freely around the tennis court and through airports.  We don’t want the airport alarms to go off and for you to be searched.” Her eyes glittered. “That would be embarrassing for you and, perhaps, appear in the gutter press.”

“You can’t be serious! You mean to take away my manhood?” I cried passionately.

“Your manhood as you call it has stopped you from concentrating on improving your fitness and your game. I remind you that you signed a contract. You must follow my instructions and I instruct you to wear this. I will leave the office and a nurse will fit it.”

“But, how will I get it off?”

“By working hard and by winning. I will decide. Are you ready for me to call the nurse or do we have a legal discussion regarding your contract. I assume you’ve read the penalty clauses? You will never play tennis professionally again.”

My head reeled. Penalty clauses, chastity tube? This was the most crazy and frightening thing I had ever heard. This woman was going to control my sexuality and I could not allow it! A small voice in my head pointed out she had the contract, I could not afford legal action and this was my last chance to be a winner. Slumping in the chair, realising I had no choice, I nodded and bowed my head.

Ingrid left the room and an older nurse in a starched uniform bustled in, carrying a bag. “I’m Nurse Wilkins. Please remove your clothing from your lower half.” Numb, I dropped my shorts and jockstrap and she coolly threaded my cock through the tube, locking the ring in place between by balls and my crotch. 

I stared down at the tube gripping my cock and I panicked. “Take it off,” I screeched. “I’ve changed my mind!”

“Sorry”, Nurse Wilkins said briskly. “Ms Svenson has the only key and no locksmith can break the code. Now,” she said in a business like manner. “Remember to direct the shower nozzle onto your genitals to thoroughly clean the area every day. And,” she added with a little smirk, “you will have to sit to urinate. Have a good day,” she said as she left, leaving me pulling my shorts back up. The tube was not uncomfortable but it was tight and I suddenly realised that it would be impossible to get hard in this thing.

Ingrid smiled at me from the doorway and I flushed. "Now," she said evenly, "we work."


Mornings were spent with Kimberley as she worked me through various exercise sessions - weights, sprints, swimming, I did everything but tennis. I found the chastity tube was comfortable and I even forgot about it as I worked out. However, every morning the sharp pain as my cock vainly attempted to get hard, reminded me of it's presence.

Afternoons were spent on the court with Ingrid pounding balls at me. She was older than me but had been one of the great players with all the skills that ran me around the court. Her serve wasn't as powerful as mine but the placement and the topspin beat me regularly.

I also marvelled at her taught trim body in the tennis shorts and top until my cock squirmed in the chastity device. After a healthy evening meal I collapsed in bed with exhaustion to sleep until it started all over again.

A week had passed and I was becoming very horny, as horny as I could with no chance of getting hard, let alone relief. I realised this was the longest I had ever been without coming and it was beginning to drive me mad, so mad, I attempted to talk Ingrid into allowing me to get out of it.

"It is driving me loco," I said to her after we finished the tennis session.

"You will have to get used to it," she said calmly.

"But, it is terrible," I whined. "Can't I just, you know," I said softly, face burning.

"Masturbate?" she said calmly. "Jerk off? What do you call it, Emillio?"

"Si, both of those things," I murmured, blushing.

"Are you asking me to let you jerk off?" she said, her voice louder and I looked around at the empty court.

"Yes, yes," I said quickly in case Kimberley returned.

She studied me thoughtfully for moment. "You got to this stage more quickly than I planned. However," she said briskly, "we can move ahead. There is a small professional tournament next week, here in Vegas. You reach the final and I will allow you to play with yourself."

The way this beautiful woman said it in those clipped tones of hers as she smiled at me caused me to blush deeply. I felt so humiliated but the arousal drove me on. "Next week! Ingrid," I begged, "I can not wait until then."

"You have no choice, Emillio," she said with finality. "And," Ingrid reminded me, "you have to get through to the final."

The next morning, Kimberley was dressed in tight white shorts that hugged her round ass and a sleeveless, low cut top, which emphasised her large breasts. I groaned to myself as my cock throbbed in the chastity tube and threw myself into the exercises. My eyes were drawn to her smooth ass time and time again as we worked and, although her eyes were hidden by sunglasses, I guessed she noticed me looking.

We finally finished and Kimberley smiled at me. “Good work,” she said. “For the first time, Emillio, I felt you were really trying.”

Trying to forget my poor cock, I thought to myself but, instead, said, “I’m getting better at it.”

“You are. And,” she said, smiling as she loosened her thick red hair, “I’m going to reward you with two pieces of information.” She moved closer to me and her warm arm rested on my forearm as she pushed her breasts against me. “You’ve been looking so hard, I’ll tell you,” she breathed. “I am wearing a very brief thong under my shorts and,” she added as my cock tingled, “the thong is white. Satisfied, honey?” she giggled and walked away, her ass moving in those shorts while my cock pulsed in frustration.

Fuelled by frustration and anger, I finally beat Ingrid in the first set and she silently applauded me as I stood sweating on the back line. For the rest of the afternoon, she mercilessly forced me to practice every type of serve imaginable.

“Tomorrow,” she said watching me as I mopped my face with a towel; “we volley and work on the net.”

Frustration was with me every waking moment and I was so focussed on the tournament, determined to get through to the final that I worked so hard the next morning, Kimberley called for a break.

We sat in the shade under a tree out of the hot Vegas Sun and sipped from our bottles. “Ingrid tells me she’s going to let you jerk off if you get through to the finals,” she said in such a matter of fact tone I was completely taken aback and could only nod while I blushed. “You better make the finals, Emillio,” Kimberley smiled. “Or you may never hold your dick for the rest of your contract. Ingrid can be such a bitch.”

“Did she use this same technique on Johnny?’ I asked, embarrassed to be talking about it but I had wondered about Johnny.

“Oh no,” Kimberley said. “Ingrid’s technique is to find the one thing that lets her control people and she callously uses it. With Johnny, it was money and prestige. You one thing was easy,” she laughed. “Your cock!” 

“And you? What does she use on you to keep you here?”

Kimberley smiled and stood in front of me so her crotch, covered by tight black lycra shorts was in my face. “Me? She knows I like to tease,” she smiled, pushing her crotch closer to my face. “No thong today, Emillio,” Kimberley said softly and, dry mouthed I stared at her crotch, cock throbbing intensely. “Today,” she laughed. “I’m thong free.”

That afternoon I threw myself into the practice as I did every day after that until I was blasting Ingrid off the court. In the mornings, I sullenly followed Kimberley and tried to control my frustration.

The tournament finally arrived and on the first day, on a court far from centre court, I breezed through my first match in straight sets. I expected compliments from Ingrid but, instead, she started telling me about my opponent for the next day. It didn’t matter as I blasted that one off the court in straight sets as well and that form continued as I moved steadily towards centre court and the finals.

As I played, I completely ignored the pretty girls in the stands and when they asked for autographs I was polite but distant. I had no choice as my cock pounded whenever I was near any woman. 

The morning of the final came and Kimberley helped me pack my bag. “Big night tonight,” she smiled. “You get to play with your cock again.”

Blushing, I nodded and I was happily looking forward to it. “You know, Emillio,” Kimberley breathed. “We could make it special.”

“What do you mean?” I murmured and she leaned closer, those big tits pushing against me.

“We could make it a little better than just a quick jerk off.” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like that?”

“Si,” I croaked.

“Win it, then. Win the final,” she breathed in my ear.

I nearly ran on the court and with white-hot precision I powered through my opponent without even dropping a game. I was ruthless and the crowd erupted when I politely shook hands with my devastated opponent. The media conference was small and quick and I smiled and answered questions humbly.

“Is this the new Emillio Sanchez?” the reporter asked sarcastically.

I ignored the sarcasm and glanced at Ingrid in the corner. “This is the winning Emillio Sanchez,” I said and left the conference. 

After showering and changing, I waited in front of my bungalow for Kimberley. Ingrid had simply told me to enjoy myself and the thought of what might happen had my cock squirming in the chastity tube. Kimberley roared up in her sports-car, dark hair loose and dressed in a short, figure hugging white dress. She flashed me a smile and we drove at high speed to the Flamingo Hilton on the strip.

The valet fawned over her as she led me to a suite. Shutting the door, she smiled at me and my cock squirmed once more. “A good win today,” she said, sliding her arms around my waist and I stared down at her large breasts. “Ingrid was damn pleased.” She noticed where I was looking and laughed. “You are one horny boy, aren’t you?”

“You said it would be special,” I leered.

“ Ok, get your clothes off.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice and I quickly stripped all my clothes off, standing before her in my chastity tube. Kimberley bundled all my clothes up and calmly walked out the door, leaving me naked and confused. When she returned without the clothes, she smiled. “Just a guarantee you’ll put that thing back on when we’re finished. There’s nothing for you to wear in this suite and no money. Nothing.”

“Ingrid thinks of everything,” I said bitterly.

“Yep. That’s why you won today, kiddo.” Kimberley handed me a small key. “That will unlock it.” I fumbled for a moment and managed to slide the tube off. In seconds my poor cock surged to hardness.

Kimberley giggled. “Poor thing,” she smiled. “Didn’t take long at all.” I moved towards her and she raised a hand. “Stop. Move any closer and I scream. Ingrid has detectives outside and you’ll be arrested for rape. End of a career that’s just starting to shine.”

“But,” I said, confused. “You said it would be special.”

“And it will be.” Kimberley smiled at me. “You don’t have to jerk off alone. I’ll be here to give you something to look at.”

“What!” I was shocked. “Couldn’t you…?” I asked, leaving it unfinished but she knew what I was asking and shook her head.

“Nope. I do fitness, not hand jobs, buster. That tournament wasn’t that big a win. Now,” she said briskly, “I’ve got some kleenex here for you.”  She handed me a wad of tissues. “Why don’t you get on with it so we can go and have a celebratory drink.”

My cock throbbed and I desperately wanted to cum so I slid my hand around it in that familiar grip. “That’s the boy,” she smiled. “Do it slow so you get enjoyment out of it.” My hand started to slide up and down my cock as I flushed with embarrassment but I couldn’t stop. Quickly, I was heading for the edge and she sensed it. “Emillio,” she called and I opened my eyes. Kimberley was holding her dress up and I stared at the white lace panties that barely covered her pussy. “Here’s something to think about in the weeks ahead,” she giggled and I moaned. “Told you I liked teasing.” It was too much and I shuddered with a groan and spurted and spurted into the wad of kleenex until I collapsed in a chair.

“That was great,” Kimberley said calmly, dropping her dress. “I’ve never seen a guy do that before. Ingrid told me I’d get to see it but I didn’t really believe her. Boy, I could never do that in front of someone, it would be so embarrassing. You feel embarrassed, honey?” she drawled and I looked away. “Poor baby,” she smiled. “Get cleaned up and get that chastity thing back on. When you’ve done that, I’ll get your clothes and we can go for a drink.”

A week after my first win, we were on the road on the build up to the major competitions. We stayed in hotels and our days revolved around fitness training, court practice and sleep. All the while, I tried valiantly to ignore the pretty woman at the courts and rejected their approaches. I could not do anything else.

The next tournament was a step up in class and I almost got to the finals but was bundled out by a new player from Russia. Ingrid was furious.

“You have lost your edge,” she snapped.

“I had a bad day,” I began but she wouldn’t let me finish.

“Bad day? Abysmal day, more like it! Pathetic! You have lost your concentration and your focus. I knew I shouldn’t have let you jerk off!” she hissed and I looked around to see if anyone could hear. Only Kimberley stood near enough to hear a broad smile on her face.

“I’ll do better next week,” I said.

“I know you will,” she snapped, a cold smile on her face. “Kimberley,” she said more calmly. “Get his edge back, please,” she ordered, turned on her heel and walked away. Edge? What did she mean by that, I wondered? I was soon to find out.

Kimberley knocked on the bungalow door that night, a big smile on her beautiful face and dressed to kill in a black dress and hose. My cock squirmed in that unforgiving perspex tube and I yearned to be able to live the life I once led.

“I have a date,” she said, nonchalantly walking past me into the bungalow, her musky perfume sweeping over me and she did a small pirouette in the centre of the room. “What do you think?”

I gulped. “Beautiful,” I said hoarsely, my pulse racing and my cock fruitlessly attempting to grow.

“Are you sure?” she said. “This is a big date.”

“You look wonderful.’

“You’re a man,” she said. “Do you think he’ll like these?’ Slyly, she raised her dress and I stared at the black lace suspenders holding the black stockings in place. “Think he’ll get a pleasant surprise when he slips his hand up my dress?” she smiled teasingly.

My heart pounded and my cock ached as I licked my suddenly dry lips. “Yes,” I croaked, not knowing what to say.

“What about these?” she asked casually, raising her hem higher to display her tiny panties in wispy black gauze. “Too slutty? I’ve noticed that most men love girl’s panties. Do you like these?”

I swallowed and stared at that wispy piece of lace that coyly hid her pussy from my gaze. “Yes,” I murmured. “They’re very sexy,” I added, grimacing a little as my cock flexed against the perspex.

Kimberly noticed my wince, smiled in triumph and dropped her hem. I felt a sense of loss as her panties and stocking tops disappeared from my hungry view. “I’m sorry, Emillio,” she said without a hint of remorse. “I forgot about that thing. Did it hurt much?” she drawled innocently but I thought I saw a malicious glint in her eye.

“You know it did,” I muttered.

“Sorry,” she said airily and casually walked out the door. “See you tomorrow.”

I spent that night in a sea of frustration, tossing and turning as the image of a man’s hand sliding up Kimberley’s nylon clad legs waved behind my eyes. She was right, she liked to tease.

We trained long and hard the next morning with Kimberley driving me mad in her tight white shorts and a white halter-top. My gaze was constantly drawn to the white material where it stretched tightly over her smooth crotch and to her breasts where the outline of he nipples followed my every move. All the while, my cock pounded.

I relaxed after lunch and returned to the court where, to my surprise, Ingrid was waiting with Kimberley. Both women were dressed in white tennis dresses and I sneaked a glance at their tanned legs. Ingrid told me I was playing both of them and, for the next two hours, they ran me over the court but I managed to not only hold my own but to beat them.

We sat under a tree sipping drinks. “You’re going well,” Ingrid said. “You play in L.A. on Thursday. Win there and we move into full campaign.”

“Does he get another reward?” Kimberley asked innocently, a faint smile on her face and I flushed.

“We will see,” Ingrid said and walked away. Kimberley stretched out and I glanced at those long legs.

“So,” she said finally. “You were the great Latin lover before Ingrid controlled you?”

“I had my success,” I said modestly, my cock squirming in the perspex as I stared at her legs.

“I like a man to take it slow. Lots of caressing. Lots of kissing. You do that, Emillio?”

“But of course.”

“I like it when my man finally slides his mouth down to my panties. I bet you’re good at that, right?” I flushed and she looked at me until understanding appeared in her eyes. She laughed unbelievably. “You don’t go down? You don’t do it!”

“No,” I protested. “It is unmanly.”

“But I bet you expect to get your cock sucked, though,” she said bitterly. “Men!”

“I have had no complaints.”

Kimberley stood before me and raised her tennis dress, revealing small transparent bikini panties instead of sports pants. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to give me a little kiss?” she teased and I stared at that tempting triangle of lace as my cock pulsed. For a long moment we held that frozen tableau until she dropped her hem in disgust. “Men!” she said once more in disgust as she walked away.


Frustration marked my every minute of every day until I walked out on the court for my first match. I was unbeatable and ruthlessly destroyed my opponent. I avoided Kimberly after the matches, listened coldly to Ingrids’ instructions and marched back onto the courts to eliminate my opponents one by one.

I played coldly with no show of emotion and was completely focused on my opponents. It felt like we were completely alone instead of on centre court, surrounded by fans that loudly cheered the completion of each point.

After a week, I held the trophy over my head to the cheers of the crowd. Some fans enthusiastically raised a banner, which proclaimed ‘Sanchez is back!’ At the press conference I was distant but polite and left Ingrid to answer questions about my next competition. The sportswriter’s were all ready comparing my court demeanour to Bjorn Borg and some said I was the ‘Latin Borg’. If only they knew.

I met Ingrid in the lobby of the hotel after I had showered and slept. She motioned the waiter over and ordered drinks for us. “A good win,” she said. “We now move onto the circuit and we aim for the Australian Open in January. You train until Christmas and we fly down for the warm up matches in Sydney. Then, Emillio, onto Melbourne for the Open. ”

“Si. I’m ready,” I said simply.

Ingrid drained her juice, stood and I surreptitiously glanced at her long legs. She was smiling when she looked down at me. “We fly back to Vegas tomorrow, Emillio. Sleep well.”

I didn’t sleep well at all as I was constantly frustrated and images of Kimberly and Ingrid flooded my poor mind. I  flew back to Vegas on my own as, apparently, Kimberley and Ingrid Had changed plans to catch a later plane.

Stretching out on my bed in the bungalow, I was going over the game in my head when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“This is Nurse Wilkins. Could you come to my office, please. Now.” She rang off and I stared at the dead phone, wondering about her abruptness.

She was waiting for me in her nurses’ uniform when I arrived, all white and formal. “Ms Svenson has instructed that I medically examine you prior to your next campaign. Disrobe please.”

Sheepishly, I stripped and stood before her naked with my cock bound in the perspex tube. Wilkins indicated I should move to a tiled area with a metal rod fixed to the walls at waist height. The examination proceeded and, after a while, she told me to rest my hands against the metal rod behind my back. As I did, she clicked two wristbands on and I was secured with my hands behind my back.

“Ms Svenson has asked that I secure you when I remove the tube.” My pulse quickened as she unlocked the tube, removed it and my cock started to stir as Nurse Wilkins watched it with wry amusement. She sat at her desk and started to write in a file as I stared at her legs in white stockings. “Any discomfort with the tube?” she asked without looking up. “Chafing? Rubbing?”

“No,” I mumbled, blushing and my cock stired as she uncrossed her legs. My mouth was dry as I stared at the gap between her legs, desperate to see anything as my cock leapt into full erection. 

Wilkins looked up and smiled at my cock as she snapped latex gloves on. Her perfume swept over me as she stood close to me, her hand slowly gripping my cock. “You wish to have orgasm?”

“Si,” I croaked. “Please.” 

Nurse Wilkins gave my cock a little jerk and walked away, leaving me panting with my cock pounding. She sat once again and opened her legs, revealing white stocking tops and white panties. “I’m told you do not perform cunnilingus. Is that correct?”

“Pardon?” I mumbled. “I do not know….”

“You do not kiss pussy!” she snapped, widening her legs and I stared at her panty covered crotch, yearning for it. Wilkins saw where I was staring and smiled. “I think you would kiss my pussy now, if I asked. Yes?” I nodded frantically and she wrote something in the file. “Good.”

Once again, she stood close, her latex covered finger lazily tracing the veins underneath my cock. “You would like to come?”

“Please,” I croaked and her latex covered hand enclosed my cock.

“Hump my hand,” she said, staring deep into my eyes. Blushing, I started to fuck her hand, my pelvis pushing my cock in and out of her fist while she watched me. My eyes closed as my cum started to build and, suddenly, she removed her hand, leaving me vainly thrusting. “You were close?” I nodded, breathing heavily. “Do you always arrive at the point of ejaculation so quickly?” 

“No,” I protested. “It’s just been so long.”

“I see. We’ll have to test that.” Her hand encircled my cock once again. “You may begin,” she said and, shamefully, I started humping again while she watched me in amusement. Suddenly, I was on the edge and pushed frantically as I erupted into sweet orgasm, spilling my cum onto the tiled floor.

Wilkins removed her hand, returned to her desk and started writing once again while I stood with my head down, regaining my breath. After a few moments, she moved a chair next to me and picked up a magazine. “Let me know when you’re ready,” she said as she sat, idly flicking through a magazine.

The room was silent for the next twenty minutes as I stood next to Nurse Wilkins, staring at the white nylon of her legs, as she read the magazine. Soon, my cock started to stir once again and was soon jutting from my body. She looked up and nodded. “Ready again, I see.” Her latex covered hand enclosed my cock once more but, this time she remained on the chair. “You may begin,” she said and I stared to hump as she read the magazine.

I felt humiliated as I humped her hand while she virtually ignored me and read an article on hair colour but I could not stop.  Finally, I came, spurting once again onto the tiled floor. “Yes,” she said in a matter of fact voice. “That did take longer.” Wilkins returned to the desk, wrote some notes and then picked up the chastity tube. “Time to clean your genitals, put this back on and then you can clean the floor.”

Shamefully, I did that and as I slunk from the medical examination room she smiled and said, “Good luck in Australia.” I realised that was my last orgasm for at least six weeks. 


I trained, played and analysed all my possible opponents for the next few weeks until just before Christmas. Ingrid flew to Sweden to visit with her family and Kimberley travelled to Atlanta to spend Christmas with her family but I stayed in Vegas. I couldn’t face my family and, under pressure, may reveal the truth behind the coaching technique.

At last, we were on the plane to Sydney where I played some warm up tournaments and did well, although Steve kicked my ass in the final. Kimberley was constantly teasing me, working me into a fever pitch of arousal with no relief in sight. After the Sydney games, the caravan of the top players in the world moved down to Melbourne.

Melbourne, a city of about three million sits on the banks of the Yarra River and is one of the most European cities of Australia with large populations of second and third generation Greeks and Italians. Cafes are everywhere with delicious European styles of coffee - very simple but strong.

The Melbourne Centre with the great Rod Laver Arena is near the centre of town and you can ride the trains or the quaint trolley cars to it easily. The Tennis Centre is next to the huge Cricket Ground where Australia was proving why they’re number one in that weird sport. I don’t get it but a 100,000 screaming Melburnians certainly do.

I attempted to ignore my frustration as I worked my way through the early rounds. The press conferences were a chore as women of all shapes and sizes flirted with me at the end but I couldn’t do anything but smile politely and move away.

We were staying in the Hyatt in the city and I kept pretty much to myself. Once night, I opened the door to Kimberley and tried to control my aching cock as I gaped at her gorgeous body in a tight black dress. 

She leaned against the door and smiled at me. “You played well. Ingrid is pleased.”

My eyes were glued to her as my tortured cock pulsed in vain in the cock cage. “What do you want?” I croaked.

Ingrid;s given me the key. I think you should be nice to me.” I was frozen as I watched her hand lift her dress slightly, revealing small white lace panties. “I know you don’t like kissing pussy,” she pouted, “but you should be able to kiss my panties?”

Trancelike, I slipped to my knees and without any hesitation tenderly kissed the front of her panties. Her intimate perfume swept over me and I felt her hand tousle my hair. “Good boy,” she murmured and I looked up at her.

“Please,” I begged.

“Does it hurt?” she whispered and I mutely nodded. “After the final, baby. And after you lick me.” She dropped her dress, smiled down at me and left me in a sea of frustration.

Driven by the endless frustration, I ruthlessly drove through the heats as did Steve and, intuitively, I knew we were destined to meet in the final. That wouldn’t be easy in front of Steve’s home crowd as I found in the warm-ups in Sydney.

I was cold and dispassionate as I eliminated my opponents but I was always gracious in victory and found the sport loving Melbourne crowd swinging to my side. Ingrid showed me print-outs of the headlines in the Mexican media and I was proud.

The night before the final, Kimberley once again visited my room and I tried to ignore her but, driven by my frustration, could not.

“It’s been a while since you’ve even seen pussy,’ she whispered as I, once again, knelt in front of her to kiss her panties. The panties were black silk and clung to her mound. Hypnotised, I watched her red fingernails peel back the crotch of her panties and, enraptured, I stared at her pussy, my cock pounding in it’s cage. “Tomorrow,” she whispered. “Win and this is yours tomorrow.”

I played like a man possessed and, maybe I was. Possessed by the thought of Kimberley’s pussy. It took five sets with tie breaks at two of the sets but I finally won my first open. Steve shook my hand and smiled. “Told she was a great coach. Should have kept my mouth shut.”

I had tears in my eyes when I accepted the trophy and I thanked Ingrid for her efforts in getting me to my first Grand Slam win. The crowd cheered and I smiled to myself. If only they knew.

We celebrated for a while and I returned to the hotel with Ingrid and Kimberley. “Excellent work, Emillio,” Ingrid said as she shook my hand. “My job is done and it’s time for me to retire from the business. I’ll leave you to Kimberley,” she added, eyes twinkling.

I almost dragged Kimberley to my room and she smiled as she saw the crazed look in my eyes. “Take your clothes off, baby,” she cooed and I stripped in record time. Sitting on the bed, my cock pounding in the tube, I watched her languidly take her clothes off and I gasped when she was naked. Lying back on the bed, she smiled at me through half-lidded eyes. “Time to lick, baby.” All prejudices left me as I dived to my task, licking, kissing and tonguing Kimberley’s wonderful pussy. It took a while but I managed to clumsily help her to orgasm.

Wordlessly, she crawled to her bag, removed the key and removed the tube. She squatted in front of me, smiling up as my cock sprang into hardness. I groaned as her hand encircled my cock and her pink tongue slowly slid up the sensitive part of my cock. It was too much and I grunted and started cumming as Kimberley jerked my cock with her hands.

“It’s been a while,” she smiled. “I understand and we have all night.”

And we made love all night. Sometime in the night, I asked her to be with me for the rest of the tour and, snuggling up to me, she agreed.

I awoke the next morning to an empty bed and the noise of a shower in the bathroom. Shocked, I noticed my cock was locked up in the tube once again. Kimberley emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a huge white fluffy towel. “What’s this?” I asked, gesturing at the cock tube.

Kimberley smiled. “Well baby,” she drawled. “You pussy licking skills need some work. Thought I might use an interesting coaching technique.”

And we both laughed.

Nessus29@hotmail.com 
(All Nessus stories are archived at www.asstr.org)