by Bridy McAvoy
Chris continued to toss balls to her—some easy to get, some away from her, culminating in one that was high enough to force her to jump up to attempt an overhead smash. She frowned at him as she landed, aware her skirt had stayed high and probably flashed her pussy at the cameras. He laughed and tossed another ball away to her left and had her scrambling to try and reach that.
“Pause for a moment, Kayla…I’ve got no balls left.”
She wasn’t sure if Chris had meant to say it quite like that but she couldn’t stop herself bursting into laughter at his comment. The four men at the net joined in and Chris just shook his head as he moved around on his side of the court retrieving the balls she’d managed to hit back. Kayla picked up a couple that had passed her and lobbed them back to him, then noticed the three at the net. Acting on impulse she sauntered up to the net, thrusting her hips from side to side on her approach, a sly smile playing on her lips. She bent down to retrieve a ball in front of Steve, knowing his camera was pointing straight down the front of her dress then moved along the line to pick up the other two balls. As luck would have it, they were both in front of Brad so she turned her back to her favorite among the students and bent at the waist, knowing he had a clear view of her pussy. Andy crowded in from one side and Phil from the other to capture the shot. She rose to stand upright and tossed the three balls in the general direction of Chris then returned to her position on the edge of the service courts, flushed from the excitement of her deliberate teasing.
“Right…coaching time.”
Kayla frowned for a second, and then remembered what Chris had said.
“I’ll lob the ball to you…gently, this time. And I guess you can choose your tennis coach by hitting him with the ball.”
Chris chuckled and lobbed the ball over so it bounced in front of her, rising to waist height, in a perfect position for her to smash it straight back, and, as he had said, pick her target. Once again, she decided to prolong the exercise by keeping her aim slightly off. The ball pinged off the center of the racket and fizzed through the air about a foot above Andy’s head, which quickly ducked behind the line of the net.
All of the men laughed and Chris tossed another ball into the air. This time, she made Chris sway quickly to one side to avoid a ball driven at him.
“Third time lucky.”
Chris tossed the ball up and Kayla had a split second to decide on her options. Of the four men the one she least wanted her side of the net was Steve, so aimed her return at Brad—not hitting it too hard this time, trying to get it to skim just over the top edge of the net and drop the other side so he couldn’t avoid it. Instead of hitting Brad, it cannoned off his camera and spooned up into the air to his left where Steve plucked it out of the air with one hand.
“Mine!” His triumphant yell sent a shiver through her back and she was glad when Chris intervened.
“Nope. It hit Brad on the camera, and…I keep telling you guys, the camera should be an extension of your body. Right?”
Kayla breathed a sigh of relief—the longer she kept Steve away from her the better she liked it. He was the only one who talked crudely to her, and his hands always seemed to go that step further than the others did, taking liberties beyond the shot Chris had called. She shivered again as Brad put his camera down, put one hand on the net and smoothly vaulted over it.
“Hi, Kayla. I see you need some help with your forehand there.”
He was grinning and she smiled back as he walked around her, taking his time to admire her in the ultra short and ultra thin tennis outfit.
“Right, let’s try getting you to swing more easily, shall we.”
Brad moved up to stand right behind her, placing one hand on her waist, taking hold of the back of her forearm with his other hand, and started guiding her through practice swings. It was clear he’d had some coaching practice at some point in his life—the swing felt loose and natural as he worked her arm forward and backward hitting imaginary tennis balls at about waist height. The hand on her waist felt right too, turning her into the shot and almost spinning her out of it again.
“Shall we try to hit a few balls?”
She’d been aware the other guys were still clicking away with their cameras and, when Chris lobbed the ball over the net, Brad stepped closer and helped give her arm some power. Their combined swing caught the ball in the middle of the racquet and pinged low and hard across the net. Kayla grinned—she was actually enjoying this.
“I play every week. Won a few club cups, too.”
His whisper confirmed what she’d already guessed—Brad was a consummate player himself, and his help to her felt natural, despite the fact it wasn’t designed to be.
Chris tossed another couple of balls over the net and they were returned with far more power than his throw. She was conscious of his hand on her waist, the fingers slowly moving, gathering the skirt fabric up, lifting the hemline on that side. She was equally aware of how he was pressing against her ass, his hardening cock slotting into the gap between her butt cheeks.
“Kayla, sweetie, I want you to lower the zip a couple of inches between each shot, okay? Brad knows what he’s got to do.”
She shivered as Chris threw the next ball and Brad’s hand gripped her hip hard, sliding lower over the skirt, only inches above her naked leg. This time they missed the ball completely, Kayla distracted by thoughts of what was going to happen and Brad by the proximity of her body. She used her free hand to lower the zip the required distance and took a deep breath. Brad’s hand slipped lower, his fingers feather-light as they touched her skin below the hem of the dress and the return dumped the ball into the bottom of the net.
“Come on, Kayla, you’re not trying.”
The zip came down another few inches and, as his hand slid under the skirt, she tried to steer the next return over the net. Instead it ballooned off the edge of the racquet and looped far over Chris’s head. The zip went lower and his hand was now on her naked hip, under the skirt. The fabric caught on his wrist so, from the right angle, her pussy slit had to be on show. The zip was almost down to waist level so she knew her breasts were peeking out as she swung at the next ball. Behind her Brad pressed closer to her, his now rigid erection pressed tight to her ass, the movement of her body as they swung at the ball providing evident stimulation.
The next return was spot on—zooming a couple of inches over Phil’s head and missing Chris’s leg by only a few inches. The startled yelp from the photographer made her giggle and it wasn’t till Chris pantomimed pulling the zip down again that she remembered her instructions. On the next shot, Brad’s fingers tracked across her skin and reached the edge of her pussy, pressing on her lips and eliciting a moan from her lips as she once more smashed the ball into the net.
“You can do better, Kayla. Come on…you need a wager to hit the next ball or something?”
The zip was past her waist now and, between shots, Brad didn’t remove his fingers, smearing her wetness over her mound as his fingers played with her slit. She couldn’t stand still, either, her ass grinding back against him in a slow sinuous motion as the exposure and the gentle pressure of his fingers at her core brought her own arousal up. The next throw from Chris was a bit short and Brad guided her a couple of paces forward to aim a return over the net. The zip descended another couple of inches and, she guessed, only another couple of shots before the zip was fully undone, and they could openly watch Brad’s currently half-concealed manipulation of her sex.
The next one was even shorter and she realized the two men were working together bringing her closer and closer to the net—closer and closer to the cameras and the men behind them.
“One more, Kayla, then undo the dress.”
Brad’s index finger slid along the length of her slit then gently wormed its way between her lips. She whimpered and moaned as he pressed home his attack on her body, her hand tearing the zip all the way open as she completely missed the ball. He let go of her racquet arm and lowered his hand to jo
in its compatriot below her waist. The net cord was close to her now—the only possible source of support as the dress flapped wildly open, exposing her entire body to the men just the other side of it. She let the racquet fall from her hand and slowly bent downward at the waist, reaching for the net cord and leaning her weight on it as she shuffled her feet apart. Brad’s fingers worked on her pussy, two fingers of one hand pumping in and out of her, while his forefinger and thumb on his left hand sought out and then pinched her erect clit. She groaned and thrust her hips back at him, her ass moving in slow circles against his rampant erection as the combination of the situation and his ministrations drove her up and over into another orgasm.
She gasped as he let go of her pussy for long enough to pull her upright, and then yank the dress back over her shoulders and down her arms. He held her hands clamped in his, and she could feel her own wetness on his skin as he held her. He let go momentarily to pull the dress all the way off leaving her dressed only in the little bobby socks and her sneakers, then grasped her hands in his again, all the while his cock grinding against her now naked ass.
“What…? What…?”
She couldn’t get the words out for the need to breathe and didn’t resist as he brought her left hand, still cradled in his, up to cup her breast and the nipple that seemed to be on fire as it burrowed at her palm. Her captive right hand was moved, too, to cup her sex and he exerted pressure against her middle finger to push her own finger inside her slit, forcing her to finger-fuck herself, just as he had been doing not that much earlier. She couldn’t lean forward anymore—had to lean back against him for support, crying out as once more her body took over and shook uncontrollably as yet another orgasm burst through her system.
“We’ll call that one a wrap. Very good, Brad, well done. You, too, Kayla.”
Chapter 8
Brad was a gentleman once more and picked up her dress from the grass, draping it over her shoulders as Kayla stood there panting for breath. She grabbed the net cord for support before turning toward the house and moving to the edge of the court. She stopped for a few seconds to allow her legs to regain some strength. Brad walked round the other end of the net and picked up his camera and the four men talked amongst themselves in hushed tones, the sound of conversation reaching Kayla’s ears, but no words registering loud enough to be recognized.
Chris walked up to her. “You okay, sweetie?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, not really trusting her emotions.
“Good. Let’s get you up to the deck for the next shoot.”
Kayla turned to face him. “Er…clothing?”
He shook his head. “You won’t need anything else. Come on.”
She closed her eyes briefly and shook her head then followed him to the foot of the steps leading to the elevated deck. Chris reached into his pocket and fished out something bright and red, tossing it to her as she reached the same level as him.
“You can put this on in a minute and then put the tennis dress back on over the top. This time, the guys can shoot you getting dressed as well as undressed. She looked down at the bundle of clothing in her hand—the tiny bundle of clothing and, as her eyes focused, she made sense of it. The string bikini, bright red and tiny, fit comfortably within one hand.
She had a couple of bikinis at home and she thought she looked pretty good in them, and Ben thought they were quite daring. This, on the other hand, had less than a quarter of the fabric in her most risqué one—maybe even less than a quarter of the size of the most risqué one she’d thought about buying and then put back when her courage failed her.
“You’ll look good in that…great even. Hot as hell!”
He chuckled and she shot him a furious look as he took the dress from her shoulders, leaving her nude just as the four men arrived with their cameras. There was a bench against the side of the house, between the open door to the bedroom she was using as her dressing room and the next ranch door along, which she assumed was to the, so far unseen, master suite.
The other four men moved closer and, as always, their cameras obscured their faces as they prepared to shoot a relatively rare treat—Kayla getting dressed for the next session. Chris reached into an unobtrusive box at chest height at the edge of the deck, and must have flicked a switch as the four floodlights around the deck, mounted at rafter height on the house itself, came on. Looking up at the sky, Kayla realized the sun had to be sliding toward the horizon as evening fell. She hadn’t realized it was already so late. So far the shoots had all been minor ones, designed more to fill time, and memory cards, than anything else. As soon as it got to full darkness. the real teaching would begin. Her hands busied themselves sorting out the bikini. As she unfolded it she realized it was even smaller than she’d thought it was, two tiny triangles of fabric to cover her nipples—almost certainly not big enough to cover her areola. The bottom was even smaller—just a narrow strap of fabric connected to three strings. It might cover her slit, but wouldn’t cover the outer edges of her pussy lips, and there was no way it would cover her landing strip. If she was to wear this outside of her current circumstances, she’d have to shave completely!
With the lights so bright and, with the four men clicking away avidly, Kayla felt even more the center of attention than ever. She shivered as she tied the back strap of the bikini top around her waist, then twisted the scrap of fabric back round to the front. Lifting the halter neck straps she loosely tied them behind her neck and pulled the garment into place. The men had formed a half circle around her and there was nowhere to turn to hide her modesty as she juggled her breasts so the tiny triangles fitted over her erect nipples. The traitorous pieces of her body hadn’t even relaxed after the two orgasms on the grass tennis court. With the top in place at the front, she pulled the halter straps tighter and concentrated on the bottoms. These she tied at the sides before stepping into them and pulling them up as if they were a pair of proper bikini bottoms. They wanted to slip but she held on with the palm of one hand while tightening the bow on one side then slid her hands along the waist strap to repeat the process on the other side. The final part was embarrassing—bending down and peering between her legs to make sure the bottoms were on straight.
Chris handed her the tennis dress and she pulled it over her arms and onto her back like a coat then zipped it up, finally hiding the obscene display of her body caused by the bikini.
“You’d better lose the shoes and socks, sweetie—you won’t need them for the next shoot.”
Since they were on the deck, quite close to the uncovered hot tub, she glanced over at it, doubt written all over her face as she put one foot on the bench to untie her lace. Chris laughed.
“No sweetie…not in there…not yet. That’s reserved for the final shoot of the night.”
She caught the guys cheering and wondered two things. Would they expect her to wear anything other than the tiny bikini, or one similar in the hot tub? Possibly the more important question was which of the guys would be joining her in there, and would they were wearing trunks? She changed feet and slipped the other sneaker and sock off then stood and waited for Chris to tell her what to do next. Chris smiled at her and beckoned her to follow him as the group of photographers parted, allowing her to move away from the bench.
Her heart sank as they approached the water feature. The four foot high pile of rocks with water splashing all over it didn’t look very comfortable as a location, and the import of her wearing a bikini and going near water was obvious.
“There? You have to be kidding.”
“Nope…moving water is an important medium to capture, and having it here is an absolute bonus.”
“It’d better not be cold.”
Chris chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “Well…you’re about to find out, sweetie. My guess is…yes, it’s cold. It certainly isn’t heated in any way and the sun’s not been on it since this morning.”
Kayla reached for the zip on her dress but Chris held his hand up to
stop her.
“Sweetie, you’re not wearing the dress as a cover-up. Remember the shower sequence we shot a couple of weeks ago?”
“This time you are kidding…right?”
“Nope. Sorry. Just step up onto that flat piece of rock there, please.”
The flat spot he mentioned was about two inches deep in water which disappeared off the end into what she guessed was a recirculation tank and pump system, to reappear at the top of the rock pile some time later.
She lifted one leg and dangled her toes in the water and squeaked as the cold penetrated her sensitive skin. “It’s freezing!”
“You’ll be fine.”
He motioned for her to continue and Kayla gritted her teeth and stepped up onto the rock. She’d expected it to be either rough underfoot or slippery and was relieved to find it was neither. It was, however, very cold with the water rushing around and over her feet, splashing against her legs. Every few seconds a slightly bigger splash caught a previously dry piece of skin on her ankle and she couldn’t stop the reaction to it. She looked imploringly over at Chris but he was busy talking to the guys again, expounding the technical details of the shoot and, as ever she consciously tuned him out, although this time she tried to concentrate on finding a way to stay warm.
Kayla imagined how cold it was going to be when the water soaked into her dress and touched her bare skin. The thought of the cold against her breasts or pussy made her want to shriek and run away but she couldn’t. She bit her lip and tried to force a smile as the men turned their attention back to her.