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After Tennis

An erotic story by Jeremy Edwards – (c) 2006

Playing tennis with Candice was always hard work–for both of us. We each hit the water bottle a lot during those luxurious summer Sundays on the court. And then sometimes, when the sun began its slow, late-afternoon descent and we were ready to relax the pace a bit, we’d pull a couple of beers out of her cooler.On one such occasion, it became clear at the end of yet another close match that Candice and I were both jiggling for a good piss, as the brews and H20 coursed through us.

“Do you have to pee as badly as I do,” she called to me from across the court. This end of the park was empty except for us, so she was able to shout this fairly personal question without any inhibitions. It sounded sexy, though, to hear my beautiful lover shouting to me in the open air about how she had to take a leak. I’d had the good fortune to observe that Candice embodied a particular kind of erotic beauty on the commode, her soft, intimate regions the source of ashimmering fountain. So for her to mention the need was always enough to turn me on.

“You know it!” I grinned, as we met at the net. I noticed her left hand darting momentarily to the front of her shorts. Her knees were pressed together. She smiled in a way that looked a little kinky.

“Wanna try something?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said, agreeably. I didn’t know what she had in mind, but that question–and that smile–had always led to nice things.

We headed off the court in the direction of the changing rooms, and Candice took my hand. “I thought it might be fun to do a double wetting,” she said softly.

I didn’t get her drift. It had sounded like she’d said “double wedding,” and the two of us had barely discussed marriage. But I was too intrigued–and too eager to take my dick out of my shorts and let the beer flow–to hold things up with a lot of questions.

To my surprise, she led me right past the locker building, into a secluded bit of lawn beyond. A moment later, while we swayed and held ourselves, she surprised me further by sitting me down on the grass, and then seating herself on my lap, with her back to me. Feeling her ass on my fly made me start to get hard, but I was still ready to spill over with pee any second.

Candice jiggled on top of me, and I finally realized what she had in mind. “Okay,” she announced, with a touch of breathless anticipation in her sexy voice. “When I count to 3 we both let go, all right?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but began to count. “1 . . . 2. . .3!”

I heard a lewd hissing from under her ass, and I did my part by relaxing every tensed muscle in my lap. A warm, wet bliss rolled over me as my tennis shorts soaked up Candice’s flood of womanly water and my own bladder full of fluid. Her saturated crotch generated a river that merged with my own spreading wetness, a confluence of mutual release that mingled intimately where her throbbing cunt pressed through our flimsy clothing, urgent against my pumping hose.

Even while we were still wetting, her moans indicated that her enjoyment had crossed way over the line from the basic physical pleasure of urinating into something powerfully sexual. And when we finally, finally finished, we could not peel our soaked shorts and underwear fast enough. I had quickly developed a huge erection, and her piss-glistening pussy was slick and hungry. With our pants at our ankles, she wriggled her ass back down toward my lap until her wet lips kissed the tip of my member.

After an instant of this titillating contact, we screwed our sexes further into place and began a delicious bounce. Her back, warm with perspiration, pressed tightly against my chest, and her ass squirmed against my abdomen. I heard the sounds of pee-kissed flesh squishing to our rhythm. As I fucked her right there on my lap, I reached around to finger her nipples through her tennis shirt, taking care also to tickle her under her arms, which was guaranteed to send Candice into ecstasies. Her climax and mine came rushing through us mere instants later.

Scarcely had the orgasms receded when she hopped off me, squatted mere feet away, and let loose another torrent of pee, this time onto the dry grass. She giggled girlishly while I watched the luscious stream roar out of her. Her bare ass pulsated as it watered the terrain below.

***Jeremy Edwards (AKA Jerotic) hangs his hat (or is that a cap with little horns?) at My Space. Be sure to visit him there and give him a holler. He is a most interesting bloke and I will tell you more about that tomorrow. So make sure you come back!

10 Responses to “After Tennis”

  1. metro man Says:

    Wow! Sexxxxxyyyyyyyy. Can’t wait to learn more.

  2. Gracie Says:

    Wow, Jeremy is making the rounds these days 😉

  3. Angela Says:

    Wow…look who showed up to read my blog.

  4. ZenFetish » Blog Archive » Jerotic On the Lose Says:

    […] See Also: literate smut beau monde boudoir « After Tennis Jerotic On the Lose […]

  5. BackRoads Says:

    Inspired writing. Who knew THAT could be so sexy?

  6. Jewel Says:

    You are doing some nice fetish writing. 🙂

  7. Gracie Says:

    I didn’t just read, I commented too :p

  8. Jeremy Edwards Says:

    Well, if GRACIE is going to comment, then I’m going to comment, too!! Seriously–thanks, everyone, for all the positive feedback!I’m very honored to be featured here at ZenFetish.

    The latest info on where to read my stories–vanilla erotica and the watersports-themed pieces–can always be found in my blog at http://www.myspace.com/jerotic . More of both types are on the way!

  9. ZenFetish » Blog Archive » Jerotic: He’s Back! Says:

    […] Short and sweet and deliciously naughty.  Dontcha think?  You might recall that Jerotic visited Zen Fetish once before and I told you more about him the very next day.  I mean, after all, inquiring minds wanted to know. […]

  10. ZenFetish » Blog Archive » I Get By… Says:

    […] Jeremy Edwards: You must remember Jeremy, AKA Jerotic? The fab writer who is oh so very naughty in all the right ways? I’ve written about him and featured his stories on more than one occasion….because, well, I like him a lot. He is a kind and generous friend to Zen Fetish, and I simply love having him stop by: To tell us the latest news, or share a randy little story, or even just for tea and crumpets. Not that I know what a crumpet is. But for Jeremy I would certainly comb the town and search every bakery until I found a crumpet or two or three.As I’ve noted before, Jeremy certainly gets around. And we all know the man has magic in each and every one of his dirty little fingertips. Oh, how I love those fingertips! It seems the Jeremy is making new friends over at a divinely inspired blog, Lust Bites (more about this later), where in a piece titled, Spouse-Sharing, Knicker-wetting, Flying Fucks, and Other Scenes of Amorous Tenderness, he asks and answers with elegant locution what turns out to be a not-so-rhetorical question of himself: Am I a “romantic?” Which, in turn, answers the question for all of us, Can kink and romance inhabit the same bed? […]

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