Tennis Lawn

In an open meadow,
By the tennis lawns,
Where she is standing,
A racquet gripped in her hands,
Dressed in a white polo that covers her tight,
And a flowing navy blue skirt that flirts with the summer breeze,
Complete with a pair of sneakers.

The smell of freshly cut grass is intoxicating,
Watching her prance about,
Jogging with determination as she smacks the ball back in my direction,
After my best shot,
The ball is in your court,
It always was.

To and fro,
She’s all over the court,
Sweat dripping profusely off her brow,
The rays of the sun bounces off at just the right angles off her face,
It gives her a certain glow,
Even the sweat can’t dampen her shine.

To see her be so competitive,
It’s amusing,
She’s so fiesty,
She yells at me for taking it easy on her,
But I’m not, she’s just better than I am.
It’s all her fault I’m distracted,
The way she moves,
It’s hypnotic,
She makes me feel alive,
The passion in her eyes, it’s endearing.

Watch me throw in the towel,
Take a break in the bleachers,
Sit on the wooden bench beside me and drink some water,
Watching you sip from the bottle,
Gulping it all down at once,
It makes me queasy,
Won’t you let me quench my thirst too?

Her hair wet with perspiration,
I brush them aside with a hand,
Staring at her breathlessly and without a word,
She’s frozen up,
I see her lips quiver just a little bit,
Her cheeks where my palms lay, flushed a bright red, from exhaustion and anticipation,
After I throw away her Nike sun-visor,
She leans her face toward the left, closes her eyes and goes the remaining distance,
Until her lower lip is between mine.

Staying that way for a couple of minutes,
I move my hands from her face,
Down to her shoulders,
Pressing myself lightly into her.
She broke away for a second,
Still undecided as we looked into each other’s eyes,
I knew she’s uncomfortable being touchy in public places,
But she just sighed,
Whispered two curt words that threw caution to the wind,
And caught me off guard by kissing me more roughly than I was expecting.

She pushed my back against the bench,
Climbed and sat on my lap,
Her kisses getting deeper and more wet.
It’s a closed space anyway,
No really comes here anymore,
Leaving tennis aside for a while,
We have an alternative way to work up a sweat.

She raised her shirt up to her shoulders and rolled the bottom so as to fix it in place,
Slyly, she pulled something from underneath her lower apparel and tossed it away,
All the while never breaking that kiss,
You’ve always said you wanted a tan.

Then we switched places,
I seated her on the bench,
And with her watching me with half-closed eyes,
Starting from her neck
I made my way down.
She took my hand,
Sweat trickled off her,
Some way below her navel,
Onto my lips,
Then finally on the peeping thirsty grass.

The initial shyness gave way to something more appealing,
With a hand, she lifted up the skirt,
And with the other, she has me gripped like she did her racquet just a while ago.
Tell me, please,
Exactly what you want me to do.
Don’t be ambiguous,
Or modest,
There is no one to walk in on us so we can take our time,
Haven’t you teased me enough?

Don’t hold back,
Paint yourself with my sweat,
The orange rays of the sun and the green pastures,
Let them dye you in their colors,
The more touchy you get,
The more sensitive it makes me,
When you sit over me,
Gyrating gently,
Taking over completely,
When you pick up the pace,
I can’t trust myself to even breathe.

After you groan in delight,
Setting off waves of pleasure within yourself,
And when you’ve conquered me too,
You can only smile back lewdly,
Pull you in closer to me,
Kiss you again while whispering,
‘Couldn’t let you beat me twice in the same day.’,
You laugh and punch me in the ribs jokingly while fixing your dress again.


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