With thanks to Aisling Weaver for this fantastic idea.
It’s the middle of the night. I know I shouldn’t be here but it’s so quiet and peaceful and sometimes I think it’s the only place I feel I can really think, unhindered by other worries. The security lights went off about an hour ago and it’s completely dark. My only gripe is that I am alone. I still can’t quite believe how long it has been since you left me. I’m slightly embarrassed to say that I’ve been coming here a lot in recent months, just to remember you.
I never would have thought we could even break into the tennis centre if you hadn’t dragged me along that night in June, when the stars were bright and the air was warm and cool, and it seemed the whole world was asleep except you and me. We lay on our backs in the middle of the court and gazed at the sky and you pointed out constellations to me and reminded me of being a little girl in the Brownies, first uncovering the mysteries of the universe.
Then you kissed me, and I was no longer a girl but a woman again, with all the ferocious animal passions that only you ever awoke in me. There have been other men since, but nobody touches me like you did, nobody makes my skin come alive with fire and electricity like you. You traced the lines of my body with heavy fingers until I nearly screamed at you to fuck me, and then you gagged me with your scarf so that you could continue to torture my aching body without fear of being caught. You took off your shirt and I marvelled at your lustrous body, finely muscled and toned from years of dedicated tennis training. I wanted to lick the sweat from your chest and your nipples until you gave into my desires, but you were having none of it. You took control of me like you knew my body inside out.
You laughed at me as I piteously tried to persuade you to penetrate me and the more you resisted, the more I wanted you until I was nothing more than a slave to your will, open to whatever glorious pleasure or pain you had in store for me.
That was when you had me where you wanted me. As you slipped the condom over the handle of the racket I knew that I would never, ever forget you, or the depths of lust that you drove me to. I looked at the shaft with a mixture of fear and excitement. I was innocently curious, my desire-fogged brain slow to catch on to your intentions. I think I tried to scream but at that point you thrust your fingers inside me and I was lost in a rush of ecstasy and I forgot all about the ridiculousness and stupidity of your plan. When you drove the shaft inside me I was ready, wet and loose and you just slipped it in like you had done this a hundred times before. My body revelled at this strange and curious sensation and I raked desperate fingers at your body, pulling you into kiss me, again and again as you slowly moved the handle in and out, the strings tickling at my thighs.
As you began to pick up speed, you added fingers to the equation, rubbing my clit like it was a button that could be pushed to release me into oblivion. At times I thought the sensory overload would drive me insane but you somehow kept me teetering on the edge between madness and bliss, until finally my body could take it no more and I tipped over the precipice into orgasm, sweet joy rushing through all my limbs.
I lay there for a while, unable to move, my cunt sore and throbbing, my heart beating so fast that my head pounded, rendering any thought impossible. You stroked me and told me I was a good girl, and I was confused at the flush of pride that I felt, as though I had done something amazing.
Sometime later, I asked you why you’d done it. You just shrugged and gave a wicked grin. I looked away, speechless.
Even now, I cannot watch your beloved sport without feeling dirty and subversive, and blushing so much that I have to leave the room. When you’re playing, I have to hear about the score afterwards, because I am overwhelmed with memories as soon as you walk onto the court. And when you kiss and thank your wife when you win, I take smug satisfaction in knowing that you still have that piece of me, unseen but always present, wherever in the world you find yourself.