The morning sun filtered through the blinds as Lena zipped her tennis bag, her athletic frame still glowing from their early workout. "You sure you'll be fine here without me, babe?" she asked, flashing a sharp grin at her boyfriend Mark. "It's just a 35k tournament in Monastir—nothing I can't handle."
Mark leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Those guys down there flirt like it's their job. Promise me you'll keep your distance." Lena laughed, stepping closer and poking his chest. "Insecure much? I can handle a few lines. Besides, my backhand's what they'll remember, not my ass." Their banter heated up as she tugged him toward the bed, her hands already working his belt. "Show me what I'll be missing, then."
Clothes hit the floor in a rush. Mark's cock hardened under her touch as she straddled him, guiding him inside her wet pussy with a confident moan. "Mmm, that's it—fill me up before I go chase bigger serves," she teased, riding him slow and deep. Mark gripped her hips, panting. "Bigger? Mine's enough to keep you satisfied." Lena smirked, grinding harder. "We'll see. Those players might have something to say about that."
She leaned down, kissing him fiercely while her pussy clenched around his cock. Sweat beaded on her skin as she moved faster, her ass slapping against him. "Fuck, you're so hard for me," she whispered between witty jabs. "Worried I'll get distracted by a gang of tall, athletic types? Stay away, you say? Cute." Mark thrust up, matching her rhythm. "Just... don't ignore me if they try."
Lena flipped them, pinning him down with strong thighs. "I won't ignore you—unless you keep acting jealous. Now shut up and make me cum." She bounced on his cock, her dripping pussy taking every inch as they both grew breathless. The room filled with panting and the slick sounds of their bodies. Mark reached up to squeeze her breasts, but she batted his hand away playfully. "My pace, remember?"
Tension built as she rode him relentlessly, her clit grinding against him until she cried out, coming hard around his cock. Mark followed soon after, spilling inside her with a groan. They collapsed sweaty and satisfied, but Lena's phone buzzed—her flight reminder. "Time to go. Don't worry so much; it's just tennis."
At the airport, her goodbye kiss was quick. Messages started sparse once she landed. "Some guys at the hotel are already flirting—nothing serious, don't freak," she texted. Mark replied instantly: "Stay away from them." Her call came next, voice sharp. "You're being insecure. I can handle myself." She hung up before he could respond.
Two days of silence followed. Mark stared at his phone, replaying their last night—the way her pussy had gripped him, her confident words about bigger cocks. Lena was strong-willed; she wouldn't just vanish. Yet the quiet stretched, leaving him wondering what Monastir's courts were really offering her.
Little did he know, her silence hid the start of something far more intense than either had imagined.
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