Date: Mon, 22 Jul 2013 23:47:41 -0400 (EDT)
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: A Fourth for Tennis

			    A FOURTH FOR TENNIS
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

[Full disclosure: I haven't played tennis for over thirty years now, and
the rules I encountered online don't match up with my memories of the few
games I did play back then. I have done my best here, therefore, but am far
from expert, and except for the end result, the game itself is not
important for my story. If I got some detail of the game wrong, please be
forgiving.]

     "Hey, dude!" came a call and Reuben looked up from lacing up his
tennis shoe. It was Link! Lincoln Talmadge, to be precise.

     "Hello." Reuben said, feeling giddy and foolish at the same
time. Hell, this was why he'd joined this much-too-expensive country club
in the first place, the chance to hang out socially with the elite of the
city. Talmadge Industries, for example, was a plum he desperately wanted to
pluck, if he could sign them up for his firm's auditing services, it would
pay him bonuses extraordinary and unending as long as he could keep them on
board. And a game of tennis (for Link was wearing tennis gear himself,
white headband, pullover shirt, shorts, shoes, and holding a racquet) every
now and then could keep the wheels of bonuses greased and turning
smoothly. "Are you available for a game of tennis with me? My partner
called and is going to be an hour late." The "partner" was non-existent, he
had planned on hanging about the court and hoping to be picked up for a
game or a fourth for tennis.

     As if the thought brought the result, Link said, "Funny you should
mention that, because I was just looking for a fourth."

     "Terrific!" Reuben said. "Who're we playing?"

     Gregorio and Waylon." Link answered and Reuben almost
drooled. Gregorio Medroso was the owner of a dozen new-car dealerships
spread over this part of the state, and Waylon Chalmers was the living
epitome of "old money." He couldn't have asked for a better trio of tennis
players to jumpstart his new life as one of the power elite. If he could
make a good showing on the courts, that is, he'd have to play as if his
life depended on it...and his professional life did! "But there's a matter
of the wager." Link added.

     Of course these men played for money, and thousands were tossed about
as if they were single dollar bills for a normal wager. Reuben considered
it, and took the plunge. "I'm fine with playing for stakes."

     "But our stakes in this game aren't the usual...."

     Reuben dared to cut him off. He couldn't appear anything but flush
here and his bank account could take a hit into the lower five figures if
need be...if it meant that he would get his foot in the door of this social
circle. "I've heard of your games." That was a lie. "And I really don't
care. I can handle anything you can."

     "Great. I'll match you against Gregorio and I'll take Waylon, then."
Link said rather enigmatically. "Okay with you?" Reuben guessed that was
how they'd divide the winnings or losings at the end, and nodded, it
wouldn't matter to him. "Let's go see if Gregorio will agree to it."

     Reuben snatched his own racquet out of its carrying case and took off
after Link as if he was the pied piper and Reuben one of the rats entranced
by the pipe's bewitching music.

     Gregorio Medroso was larger and brawnier than Reuben had guessed from
his pictures (Reuben had studied the papers for months, reading about the
beautiful people, the powerful people, trying to figure his angle to get an
in to them), with hair aplenty on his arms and legs in addition to the
mustache and perpetual blueness about his chin. The hair on his head, he
kept cut short but the waviness of his locks kept him from doing much more
with it than that, that or he was one who didn't bother using a comb on the
weekends. He looked up as Link approached and then looked at Reuben behind
him and smiled. It wasn't a friendly smile, exactly, it was
more...proprietary than that, like Reuben was a plot of property he was
thinking of taking over...a hostile takeover.

     "Reuben here has said he'll make our fourth. What do you say to him,
Gregorio? Will he do?"

     Reuben guessed that Link wanted to partner with Waylon (a
prettily-sculptured blond-haired man, much like Link save that Link was
brown-haired and a bit shorter and broader than Waylon), and he
smiled. "I'm up to anything you are, Gregorio."

     "Are you really?" Again that smile, it didn't quite fit the scene
here. It belonged in a boardroom.

     "Sure. Why not?"

     "Will I do for you, then?"

     "Of course!"

     "Great, let's go!" Link said.

     "You booked us a court?" Reuben asked, looking at the board. It showed
who had scheduled their games for when, he didn't see any of the three
names there at first glance.

     "No, no, Waylon has a private court. We're all going to his house."

     A private invitation to the Chalmers' house. Reuben agreed
happily. Things were really looking up.

     The Chalmers estate was turn-of-the-century elegant, back when houses
were the ultimate statement of a family's money and position. Graceful
statuary, broad lawns, sculpted bushes, the house trimmed with marble and
flourishes of exotically curved panels. The courts were down the hill on
the land behind, heavily camouflaged with trees and bushes, and inside
that, the hurricane fencing and green walls that meant these courts were
private to any but those who had been granted entrance.

     "Come on, Reuben, you and I'll take the far end." Link gestured to the
western end. The trees about them meant that the courts were well-shadowed
until at least ten o'clock, but it was still accepting the danger of the
sun blinding you to the ball flying in your direction.

     Reuben blinked. He'd thought that he and Gregorio would be partners,
from what had been said before. Well, not worth getting steamed over, he
would play a game hard but fair and giving the other players the benefit of
the doubt on dubious calls. If he lost, he'd grin and bear it, but demand
another game for a chance to get his own back...and grant the same boon if
he won. The second game was his real reward here and it was practically
guaranteed, as long as he kept his head out there.

     Best two games out of three. No ad scoring." Link said as they
positioned and Reuben nodded. Only sensible, three games gave a team a
chance to pull out of a bad streak and a losing game. And to keep the
tension up if you're down one. People like these thrived on tension....

     Gregorio hit the ball like it was fired out of a cannon. Reuben missed
the first two balls struck to him while still dumbfounded by the raw
power. He managed to return the third ball but it went wide of the
mark. Link muffed the fourth serve and after that, it was just a matter of
them holding their own for while Link managed to win the ball twice and
Reuben once, they still ended up down at the end, losing the game 4-3.

     "First game is ours!" crowed Gregorio triumphantly. "Soon, my dear
Reuben, you shall be mine!"

     "Do we trade partners?" Reuben asked Link.

     Link shook his head. "He meant the wager. If we lose the next game, he
gets you."

     "Oh." Reuben didn't think they were talking about money any longer. He
should have pushed on the question of the bet. Some players eschewed money
wagers, and the losers had to do something demeaning like shave half their
head or swallow a pint of pig lard or some such. He could still deliver on
such a wager, but it might put a real crimp in his business dealings if he
had to shave half his head....

     Reuben looked at Link, at Reuben, at Waylon. Three men who held in
their unknowing hands the key to his future success. Playing a game of
weekend tennis for the right to have the losing members play a personal
servant. But if he wimped out after agreeing now...well, men in high
finance had rules about honor that was as firm as the priesthood.

     He looked at Gregorio again. Such a big, strong, hairy, hairy
man. Powerful. Like Reuben had always dreamed of having for himself, the
power. If he could defeat this man, this master of industry....

     With renewed determination he turned to Link. "Let's play tennis."

     Link slowly smiled. "I'm counting on you, Reuben."

     Ten minutes later, they had beaten their opponents for the second
game, winning at 2-4, tying them up at one game each.

     "This game decides it." Gregorio told Reuben. "When it's done, you'll
be sitting pretty, right here." He pointed at his crotch.

     Reuben recognized this tactic, he was trying to freak Reuben out. "You
mean you're going to be on your knees squealing like a pig. A hairy pig."
Reuben taunted back at him.

     For a moment, he thought he'd gone too far, but then the other three
men burst out laughing.

     And Gregorio hit the ball to Reuben who managed to return it, where it
landed almost where he wanted.

     At the score of 2-1, Gregorio said "Halfway there. With my tool,
that's the first six inches of it inside you."

     "You're supposed to divide by two, not multiply by four" Reuben
retorted. That earned another laugh and he beamed. He was getting into the
spirit of this game. Friendly rivalry.

     The score went to 2-3 in Reuben and Link's favor soon after and Reuben
said, "Better get ready for my branding iron, piggy!"

     3-3. "Sudden death round!You can't lasso a pig!" Gregorio called. "You
have to wrestle it down with your bare hands."

     "Then let's wrestle!" Reuben said.

     The game was intense, intense as hell. The ball went back again and
again, to be won by the other side and, after another interminable set of
back-and-forth, lost again. Finally, Gregorio had the ball and Reuben
looked over at Link as Gregorio started his serve. Link was exhausted, and
in the wrong place. Just a couple of steps outside where he should be but
it left a gap in their defense that should be....

     And Gregorio lobbed the ball with a ferocity as if he'd been making
his first serve, and it landed right in the sweet spot Link's
mis-positioning had opened up. Reuben ran for it like a madman and managed
to catch a piece of the ball, but it went wild, going out of the court to
one side, not even making it to the net when it went out.

     "And that's match!" crowed Gregorio. Link and Waylon had been silent
throughout the game. Perhaps that had just been Gregorio and Reuben saying
things for them, they'd had no need to taunt. Or maybe because they'd been
through this before, only Gregorio and Reuben were the new factors here.

     "No pig this time." Gregorio told Reuben. "But it is time to ride my
pony!"

     "All right, all right!" Reuben agreed. "Now what? I'm new at this,
remember?"

     Gregorio had just jumped over the net. Typical tactic for a winning
player at tennis, of course, Reuben waited for Gregorio to get closer,
extending his hand in friendly congratulations. He hoped he wouldn't mind
having half his head shaved.

     Gregorio took his hand, but instead of shaking it, he heaved at
Reuben's arm, hard, pulling Reuben to him. Caught off guard, Reuben
stumbled forward and smashed up against Gregorio's large, muscled
chest. Gregorio was a good four inches taller than Reuben, a big, big
man. A big ham of a hand slid around Reuben's waist and clamped onto his
right buttock, hard, pulling him tighter up against the huge man...oh, God!
If he lost the tennis game, it meant that Gregorio....

     "You're mine now." Gregorio put any doubts that lingered in Reuben's
hopeful mind to a painful death. "Ready to go ride the pony?"

     "Pony?" whimpered Reuben. There was a thick warm thing pushing against
Reuben's stomach, a solid sausage he could feel through the multiple
thicknesses of cloth between them, his shirt, Gregorio's shorts and
jockstrap. He thought he knew the pony he was supposed to ride!

     "I didn't know this was the wager." Reuben grunted out. "I didn't know
this was what I was playing for! I mean, I...."

     "You mean you want out?" Gregorio's powerful body froze on Reuben's
form, locking him in place.

     Reuben had to think fast. Losing a bet and not paying on it...Bettors
had a firm code about that. If he reneged, he could kiss any hope of a
career good-bye in this town. Maybe in this state. And the nearby
ones. Maybe the other coast might be far enough...maybe.

     He looked up into Gregorio's fiery eyes. He had lost a wager that
meant he belonged to this...to this....

     "No, I don't want out." Reuben breathed.

     "Good." Gregorio's other hand came up and clamped onto the back of
Reuben's head.

     "Shall we go inside and find a bed?"

     "Fuck that. I want to take you right here, right where I beat your
ass."

     "All right."

     "Get down on your knees." Gregorio ordered. "Time to beg for your
ride."

     Reuben knelt before this big man, this powerful man, this giant of
industry and a giant among men. Sitting on his feet when he'd knelt put
this giant's basket right in front of his face and he leaned in to gnaw at
the thick bulge he saw in those too-tight shorts.

     He got in contact before his head was caught in a pair of powerful
paws and pulled back. "Did I say you could do that?"

     "No." whimpered Reuben. "Can I? Please?"

     "Beg better than that." Gregorio chided him.

     "Can I please suck your cock for you? Can I please suck your cock,
please, Gregorio, please, please, please!" Reuben felt invulnerable to
shame as he saw this huge prod which only needed his begging to obtain. "I
need it, I need it so bad, please let me suck on it!"

     "That's better." Gregorio said. "Now, take it out for me."

     Reuben's fingers applied themselves to Gregorio's shorts, the top
clasp of the shorts released easily enough, and the zipper was stubborn but
yielded under enough pressure. Reuben parted the fabric at the fly with
trembling hands, and pulled them down. Now only the jockstrap was left, and
the elastic waistband was old and frayed and yielded easily to his fingers'
tug. As the manhood underlying was revealed by the jockstrap's lowering,
Reuben felt his mouth gush with spit in anticipation. A man-sausage indeed,
here! It jumped as it was free and jutted out at him and he moved his mouth
towards it, drooling in a way that threatened to drip from his lips...

     And was caught again, as he tried to catch that luscious, luscious
prod. "Ah-ah!" Gregorio rebuked him. "A little at a time, here. I want to
enjoy this."

     "All right, all right!" Reuben panted. His tongue snaked out and tried
to catch that beautiful, shining blob of pre-come that was reaching out,
the globular head straining to climb down to the ground, a thin string
continuing to connect it to the slit of the glans. Gregorio let him do
this, the glob landed on his tongue-tip, a salty warm pearl of maleness,
and he retracted his tongue and savored the rawly male, musky flavor of it.

     But when he reached his tongue out again, Gregorio ordered, "Wait. You
can lick my cock, but you can't suck on it. You get me? Lick it all over,
get it wet, but you can't put it in your mouth."

     Reuben obeyed, flicking his tongue in and out as he lapped to keep it
moist, splayed his tongue's surface over the dong and was rewarded by more
of the slippery, flavorful precome that gushed out onto his tongue as he
played it over Gregorio's prong.

     A few minutes of this and he had the heavy tool coated with a thick
layer of his saliva, so much that he was tasting himself rather than
Gregorio by this time. Gregorio sensed it, too, or felt the diminshment in
his pleasure that the lack of firm contact would produce, and he said, "All
right, now, I take you. Skin those togs off your butt and get on your
back."

     Reuben did so, gladly undoing his shorts and sliding both those and
his briefs together down his legs and off. He didn't take anything else
off, the bare concrete wasn't the most enticing of surfaces to lie on.

     He got on his back, winced at the hardness of the court, and then his
legs were grabbed and he found himself with an armful of heavy, sweaty,
heavy-breathing, hairy, musky man. He closed his arms about this muscled
behemoth and held on as the spit-slicked prong found his anus and shoved
inwards at him.

     Reuben's ass screamed out at him as he felt the sphincter give way, he
was glad he'd coated the dong as heavily as he had, nonetheless, there was
pain. He held on as best he could as the hard cock plowed into him, the
bright pain filling his brain, combining with the sight of this horny,
evilly-grinning man, the smell of his exercise-ridden sweat, the taste as
the sweat dripped down onto his lips and sunk into his body, the feel of
the slick flesh and wet clothing plastered to the skin.

     "Now I've got you." Gregrio grunted as he drove the rest of his cock
into Reuben's screaming ass to the very hilt. "Now you belong to me."

     "Yeah, yeah, sure!" Reuben panted. "Fuck me, now, please, fuck me!"

     "You'd better believe it." And Gregorio's body began to slam into
Reuben's ass, Reuben yowled as the dong played in and out of his body, he
wasn't just being fucked here, he was being torn in two! How had he lived
for thirty years and never once experienced this in his life, being
slam-fucked by a huge, hairy man who growled like a bear and held him so
tightly it threatened to squeeze the very life out of him.

     And he loved it. God, yes, to be taken like this, so totally, so
completely, so irrevocably, he had to get more of this, more, God, yes,
more! He muttered this to Gregorio in low tones, "More, man, more, God,
more, more, harder, faster, God, yeah, more!"

     "You're mine now, you're mine, you're all mine!"

     "More, more, more, more, more!"

     "Mine now, mine, mine!"

     "Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh!"

     "Ah-hah, ah-ah, ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!"

     "Uh-guh-huh-huh!"

     "Ah-hah-hah!"

     "GUH-HUHHHHNNNN!"

     "AH-HAH, GAH-HAH!!!"

     And as Reuben spewed his load all over Gregorio's spasming body as
Gregorio jetted hot spunk-wads up into Reuben's body. Gregorio was writhing
atop Reuben as if possessed, and Reuben just clung and held onto that
thrashing body as he ejaculated what felt like a week's worth of jizz onto
both their bodies. His own butt dribbled hot come as Gregorio continued to
hunch in and out of him, and Reuben felt totally coated with Gregorio's
sweat and come, a baptism of possession that made him irretrievably bound
to this horny man.

     Done, his climax concluded, Gregorio simply collapsed onto Reuben,
flattening and further covering him with his body and its fluids,
everything, everywhere, for Reuben there was only Gregorio.

     "Ah, man, ah, ah, ah!" Gregorio grunted long after his breathing had
returned to normal. "You are such a hot fuck. I knew you would be when I
saw you."

     "So did I." Reuben answered, not entirely truthfully.

     "Link and Waylon will take a while. You want to go get some lunch?"

     "Uh...sure." Reuben had trouble reconciling this casual business-like
attitude with the hot stud-beast who'd been fucking him a short moment
ago. He got to his feet and got his shorts and briefs, began to tug them
back on.

     "We'll come back around twelve-thirty. Link and Waylon will be done by
then and we can play another game."

     "Same wager?"

     "Always the same wager, except we mix up the teams. You want to play
against Waylon this time? He's a total bottom, I have to play like hell to
win when I'm paired with him. Your ass could probably use a rest before it
has to take another hard cock."

     "Yeah." Reuben said with feeling. "You and me against the two of them,
then?"

     "Sure, Link has a nice, tight ass." Gregorio agreed. "As for lunch,
how do you feel about Marcon's? We can't get inside his doors wearing
tennis clothes and smelling like we do, but he has an outdoor area and
serves a nice lunch."

     "Sounds good." Reuben fastened his shorts and said. "I'm ready."

     "You work for an auditing firm, don't you?"

     "Yes, Cable & Kramer." Reuben agreed.

     "I'm needing a new auditing firm for my dealerships. My old firm has
been overcharging me."

     "We'd never do that." Reuben said quickly.

     "I'm sure you wouldn't." Gregorio said. "Let's get some lunch and you
and I can talk some turkey before we come back for our rematch."

     "I'm sure we can." Reuben trotted after that big, magnificent,
powerful man. As for a rematch...maybe he'd better arrange to be up against
Gregorio again, and lose another match before this weekend was out. It
couldn't hurt his career to cement the deal with Medroso Motors before he
attempted to sign up any other clients.

     Though it could certainly hurt him elsewhere!

				  THE END
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		  E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
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