Distant Serves

Sarah zipped her tennis bag with a decisive tug, her athletic frame glowing under the bedroom light as she turned to Jake. "Monastir’s calling, babe. Thirty-five grand on the line and a whole week of sun-drenched courts. You sure you’ll survive without me?" Jake leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Just don’t let those slick European players distract you. I’ve seen how they flirt at tournaments." Sarah laughed, sharp and unapologetic. "Flirt? Please. I can handle a few compliments without losing my focus. Unlike some insecure boyfriends I know." She stepped closer, her fingers tracing his jaw. "Or are you worried my pussy will forget what your cock feels like?"

The air thickened with tension as Jake pulled her in, their mouths crashing together in a hungry kiss. "You’re not going anywhere near them," he muttered against her lips. Sarah pushed back, eyes flashing with wit. "Telling me what to do now? Cute. I’m the one swinging the racket out there, remember?" She shoved him onto the bed, straddling his hips with confident grace. "But if you’re so horny thinking about it, maybe I should remind you who owns this ass before I go."

Clothes peeled away in a rush of fabric and heat. Sarah’s strong hands worked Jake’s hard cock free, stroking it with deliberate pressure while her tongue flicked across the tip. "Mmm, already dripping for me," she teased, taking him into her mouth for a slow, wet blowjob that left him panting. Jake groaned, fingers threading her hair. "God, Sarah, you’re so good at that. But those guys—they’ll be all over you." She released him with a pop, wiping her lips. "Then I’ll tell them my boyfriend’s cock is the only one I need. For now."

She climbed atop him, guiding his throbbing length into her slick pussy with a satisfied sigh. The room filled with the sounds of skin slapping and shared moans as she rode him hard, her ass bouncing with each thrust. "Deeper," she demanded, sweat glistening on her skin. Jake gripped her hips, thrusting up to meet her. "You’re so wet and tight. Don’t let anyone else feel this." Sarah’s witty retort came between pants. "Jealous much? Maybe I’ll let them watch me play and wonder what they’re missing."

Their pace quickened, bodies slick and urgent. Sarah leaned forward, breasts pressing to his chest as she whispered filthy encouragement. "Fuck my pussy like you mean it. Make me cum before I leave." Jake obliged, flipping her onto her back and driving into her dripping core. She wrapped strong legs around him, nails raking his back. "Yes, just like that—harder!" The tension coiled tighter with every stroke, witty banter dissolving into raw gasps.

Sarah came first, her pussy clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through her athletic body, juices dripping down his shaft. Jake followed moments later, burying deep and flooding her with hot cum while they both trembled, sweating and spent. They lay tangled, breathing heavily, her head on his chest. "That was intense," he said. She smirked. "Stay that way. I’ll call when I land."

At the airport Sarah blew him a kiss, already checking her phone. Hours later in Monastir, her first message arrived: "Tournament vibe is electric. Couple of players already chatting me up—nothing serious, don’t worry." Jake replied instantly: "Stay away from them like we talked about." Her response was curt. "Insecure much? I’m here to win, not babysit your ego." Then silence fell for two full days.

Jake paced his apartment, rereading the thread. When her call finally came, it was brief and cool. "I’m busy with practice. We’ll talk later." The line went dead, leaving him staring at the screen. Sarah stood on her hotel balcony overlooking the courts, a sly smile playing on her lips as distant laughter from the players’ lounge drifted up. One tantalising step had already pulled her further from home.