I forgot my panties at my tennis lesson...
I'm sure they were in my bag...
As I moved the clothes around my gym bag for the third time, pushing aside the little pleated tennis skirt and thin cotton T-shirt, I knew I had fucked up.
Thirty minutes earlier, stepping out of the shower, I’d thrown my tennis outfit into my bag and pulled my jeans up and over my butt without underwear. I was running late, and I was *sure* I’d thrown a pair of clean white underwear into my bag, so, nothing to worry about, right? I’d just get changed at the gym.
Wrong.
Looking into my gym bag and seeing a complete lack of panties, my heart was starting to race, imagining myself lunging for the ball, my skirt flying up around my waist. Or worse yet, diving to make a return and ending up on my back, my legs falling open and spreading me. The worst thing was that I was playing with Matt, one of my oldest friends and my de facto tennis coach, and the court was booked in five minutes.
I wondered whether to call it off, but I didn’t even know where to begin. I couldn’t tell him it was because I forgot my panties...even the thought of saying the word in front of Matt was embarrassing. We’d been friends for years, and there was no way I was about to talk to him about that kind of stuff. I wanted to work out, too, and I’d already made it out of the house. Plus, the fee was not cheap and I was pretty sure it was non-refundable.
Play in jeans? I thought.
No, that would never work. Too hot, too sweaty, and it would look stupid.
Hmmm…
Maybe if I was really careful…
“Hey Matt,” I smiled, dropping my bag full of my day-clothes in the corner of the court, feeling as if I were surrendering them somehow, the absence of the bag leaving me with only four items of clothing total: my skirt, my T-shirt, my socks, and my sneakers. “You ready to get your ass whooped?”
“You wish,” he grinned, realigning the strings of his racket. “You’re going down.”
I picked up my racket and walked to the baseline, the pleated skirt brushing against my skin, hyper-aware that the hem only came down to the top of my thighs, the shape of my butt causing the fabric to hang away from my body slightly. I tried to focus on the game ahead.
“Wanna serve first?” Matt called out from the other side of the net.
“Sure,” I said, picturing myself jumping up in the air to strike the ball, my skirt lifting with me and then being pulled upward by the downward inertia of my movement, revealing…well…it was probably best not to think about it…
I needed to be very careful.
Matt threw me the ball and I bounced it against the floor a few times, my breasts jiggling slightly with the movement. Maybe my lack of bra wasn’t the best idea either, but it was too late to worry about that now. I tossed the ball up, my arm extended high, and as I swung forward, I felt the skirt lift slightly as the back, feeling a quick breeze between my legs.
Shit.
The ball sailed over the net, and Matt returned it with a grunt of effort. I tried to ignore my lack of underwear as we rallied back and forth for a few minutes, the sound of the ball echoing in the enclosed court. With each rally, the sweat began to bead on my forehead and trickle down my chest.
“Nice shot,” Matt said, our rallies turning a little more serious as we finished warming up. “Ready to play for real?” he asked with a grin.
I nodded, pushing my hair back slightly and bending my knees in anticipation of his serve. As I bent forward, I felt the skirt ride up higher than before. The cool air against my bare ass sent a another shiver through me, but it was okay; there was no one behind me to observe.
This time, Matt’s serve came fast, and I lunged to return it, stretching my body to the right. My skirt flew up completely, exposing my round pale butt to him for just a second. I felt my face flush as I quickly stood up, pulling the hem down to my thighs and exposing my midriff.
“Uh…nice shot,” Matt said. I looked at him but his eyes were on the floor.
Fuck.
He knew.
I was sure of it.
We continued playing, and with Matt now aware I wasn’t wearing panties, I became more aware of my body with every movement. Each time I jumped or bent or reached, I felt my breasts bounce and the skirt lift. I wondered and I worried; just how much of my smooth pussy and round butt was I showing him each time it happened? Why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe he was embarrassed as I was…
And yet, if Matt was embarrassed, he certainly wasn’t going easy on me with his shots, repeatedly sending them as wide as he dared, making me lunge and bounce and reach, my little pleated skirt swishing from side to side with each movement, continually threatening to show my friend just how smooth and pretty my pussy really was.
“Out!” I called, watching the ball as it flew past my head and bounced slightly over the line. I walked to where it stopped and bent at the waist to retrieve it, my butt facing him, forgetting myself and then standing quickly when I felt the air between my legs. It lasted for less than a second, but when I turned around, his face was bright red.
Ah. So now he’d seen it.
He swallowed. “Match point.”
“Cool,” I said, moving back to my position behind the baseline, knees bent in anticipation of his serve. Only now I felt a new excitement in our game, an anticipation in my body that had little to do with returning the ball. I looked down at myself casually, trying not to make it obvious that I was checking myself out, and to my embarrassment and arousal, I saw that my nipples were hard.
But not even normal hard. Like…they were really fucking hard; every ridge and gently bump of my areola projected forward and detailed in high-definition through the thin fabric of my top. I stood quickly, moving to cover myself, before realizing how weird that would have looked: clutching my tits with my racket in my hand while waiting for his serve.
“Are you okay to keep playing?” Matt asked.
I could feel his eyes on me, and my puffy pussy lips began to swell with arousal.
Fuck. Why did my body like this so much?
So embarrassing.
“Sarah?”
“Yeah,” I said, a little too quickly, bending at the knees once more. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You look a little–”
“C’mon,” I said. “Serve.”
He did, and this time I jumped higher to return the ball, knowing the impact would make my breasts bounce and my skirt lift higher. Sure enough, I felt the fabric flutter up, exposing more of myself to him. He missed the return, his racket swinging awkwardly.
And it was at that moment that I realized I was enjoying this a little too much.
“Is everything okay over there?” I asked, pretending innocence as I stood with my hands on my hips, pushing my chest out.
“Yeah, fine,” he mumbled, adjusting the front of his shorts.
“Uh huh,” I said.
We resumed playing, and now I was being deliberate in my movements. Every lunge, every jump, every stretch was an opportunity to expose myself to him, and the feeling of being so exposed was turning me on more than I expected. My pussy was getting wetter with each point, The power I felt was intoxicating. My embarrassment had turned to lust, and in the heat of the game, my body was starting to make decisions for me.
Matt was struggling too, a fact that I was taking great pleasure in. His serves were weaker, his returns less accurate, and I was winning easily now. My body was slick with sweat, and I wondered if Matt was picturing what it would be like to fuck me; to see my head thrown back in ecstasy, my body shimmering with sweat as he pushed my legs open wider and–
“Fuck!” I shouted as the ball grazed my racket and flew past me, hitting the back wall and rolling under a small gap. I walked toward it but stopped at the edge of the court. “Oh, shit. It went under.”
“Under what?” Matt called from the other side of the court, walking toward the next and resting his arms on it.
“Here,” I said, pointing to the little gap beneath the back board and the wall. “Hold on, I’ll grab it.”
I bent to get it, but I couldn’t quite reach it. I turned to see Matt watching me, silent. I could feel his eyes on my body as I contemplated how to retrieve the ball.
That’s when I realized; I’d have to get on my hands and knees to reach it.
The thought of getting on all fours, with my bare ass and pussy pointing directly at him, made me shiver with pleasure. Was I really going to do it? I looked back at him and smiled, my pussy throbbing with anticipation as I lowered myself to the court, positioning myself on my hands and knees, knowing exactly what I was about to show him…
like how this takes off, you got me
Also thank you for making the start of the work week better. It's always very appreciated