The Love Match

Disclaimer:

This story is intended for adults interested in homosexual erotica. If that is not something that you wish to read then go no further.

All characters and situations are fictional though hopefully plausible and grounded in reality.

The work published here is all my own with all rights reserved.

The author is based in the UK so the diction reflects this but my stories involve characters of different ethnicities and many are set in locations outside the UK.

My thanks go to Nifty for all the pleasure the Archive has given me over the years and for the opportunity to bring my writing efforts to the attention of those who share my particular erotic interests. Readers are encouraged to make a donation to keep the archive going for many more years.

As always, feedback both critical and complimentary is welcome via e-mail to: barneybumpkin@gmail.com.

Please don't contact me with commercial requests or advertising.

Hope you enjoy

Barney

The Love Match - Summary

After relocating to a wealthy suburb in the south of England, Northerner and self-taught tennis player, Ian, joins his local tennis club only to find himself looked down upon and ridiculed by the offspring of its affluent patrons.

Determined to show how effective his style of play can be, he signs up for the club's annual tournament and in the first round finds himself pitted against the reigning champion, Matthew Braithwaite.

Although Ian and Matt are drawn toward one another by their shared sexuality and mutual physical attraction, their different backgrounds and attitudes make them enemies.

The story depicts the battle for supremacy that takes place between the rivals both on and off the court after Matt suggests they make their match "more interesting" by way of a wager intended to sexually humiliate his opponent.

The tale reaches its climax on finals day, when talented Indian newcomer, VJ, who both Matt and Ian have sexual designs on, makes his own bid to win the club tournament.

The Love Match

PART ONE

1. The Tournament

If truth be told he was a very average tennis player. But on some occasions, given the right incentive, when a match needed to be won, he could raise his game just long enough to defeat a much better opponent - especially one who had an inflated opinion of their own ability and couldn't understand how they could possibly lose to such an unorthodox player.

He didn't dispute that his game was pretty unconventional. He'd neither had pushy parents nor been coached like the wealthier lads at his school and had honed his game mainly through hitting a ball up against a wall for hours on end. His older sister's boyfriend, in need of a regular sparring partner (he could always beat) had sparked his interest in the sport and introduced him to the fundamentals of the game when he was twelve. Although his brother-in-law-to-be had played in matches at club level and was a big tennis fan, he was largely self-taught and Ian had picked up many of the quirks of his own game from him, including some pretty mean tactics to fall back on when all else failed.

Ian had been tutored to play intelligently, to vary the pace, get his opponent running around to tire him out, with a drop shot followed by a lob over his head, the occasional surprise short serve when the opponent was waiting way behind the baseline, or one down the centre line when they were waiting out wide, and to focus on his opponent's backhand, as this was usually their weakest shot. The key to success was to identify his adversary's weaknesses and exploit them ruthlessly.

Given a bit of confidence he could serve and belt the ball as hard as the next man and dominate the court with his forehand. Even the odd volley and smash was not beyond his talents but he was usually reluctant to rush the net, in general preferring to avoid showy high-risk shots in favour of more defensive play and rely on his solid ground strokes, superior fitness and his opponent's mistakes to see him through. However, if all else failed he was not averse to hitting a drive straight at the body of his opponent to unnerve him - especially if he persisted in coming into the net behind a mediocre approach shot.

Now in his mid-twenties and settling into a new job that had been a big promotion, Ian had joined the tennis club in the upmarket suburb he'd relocated to, so he could continue to play regularly. But after paying his annual fee he found himself confronted by the cliquishness and snobbery that often abounds in such places. A lad from a working-class background, with a regional accent and an unorthodox style of play stood out from the wealthy suburban elite and their offspring who made up the bulk of the membership. He felt so uncomfortable that he quickly abandoned attending the club's social nights in favour of the gym and only made use of the courts to play against his mates at times when there were few other members around. Although he had vowed not to renew his membership when it expired, when the club's annual tournament came around, he eagerly signed up for it.

It took place over several weeks spread over the summer. Given it covered the holiday season, players were left to arrange the date and venue between them so long as the result was in by the deadline so that the next round could proceed on schedule. All the entrants and their contact details were listed on a mammoth tournament chart in the clubhouse with gaps left for them to fill in the name of the winner who then progressed to the next round. The last two would have to slug it out on the finals day where club members came to watch and trophies were awarded.

When Ian checked the club notice board and saw he'd been drawn against Matthew Braithwaite in the first round, his heart skipped a beat. Matt was not only the current holder of the title but also a stunningly handsome lad and just the kind of guy Ian went for - dark haired with a tanned body and Latin good looks. When he'd caught sight of him on his very first visit to the club, he'd taken Ian's breath away and he had foolishly let his eyes linger on him a little too long, so that his admiration had been noticed.

A university student on vacation, Matt subsequently seemed to be mooching around the courts accompanied by one friend or another every time Ian went there to play. Unnerved by the older man's interest, the youngster must have said something to his pals, as they now tended to shy away from Ian and snigger at him behind his back. However, on the one occasion when Ian and Matt's paths had crossed when no one else was around, he had met with a very different response. Ian was in the club locker room after a long day at work, hurriedly changing out of his formal clothes and into his tennis gear, when Matt emerged from the showers. Rushing to get out on court as swiftly as possible, Ian didn't realise who it was until the lad caught his attention by pushing past him to retrieve his clothes from his locker. This might have been innocent enough had the lad not been standing beside him sporting an erection.

"Want to suck it?" he asked, giving him a cheeky grin.

Had such an opportunity presented itself earlier on in their acquaintance, Ian might have reacted differently, but since lusting after Matt on first seeing him, he had subsequently revised his opinion of him dramatically downwards after witnessing him behave badly on court. Ian had gazed down at the lad's stiff cock and given him a look of disdain.

"No thanks!" he replied with a scoff and a shake of the head, "But you can suck mine later if you like!"

Yes, Matt was a handsome devil, but he was not going to forgive the smirks and ridicule he'd received from him and his mates that easily!

Taken by surprise that the "queer" who had the hots for him didn't immediately drop to his knees and give him a blow job, but instead walked off in disgust, the lad had beaten a hasty retreat with his tail between his legs!

When Ian had spotted Matt's name listed on the clubhouse hall of fame as the tournament winner for the last two years he had begun to understand why he was so self-assured. The kid expected people to like him, to admire his superior playing ability and lose to him graciously. He also used his undoubted charisma and good looks to get whatever he wanted out of those around him - including blow-jobs apparently!

However, there was a less endearing side to the youngster that came to the fore whenever he was in danger of losing that Ian, along with many others at the club, had witnessed first-hand. Acrimonious arguments about line calls, disputes over the score, racquets bashed on the floor and balls hit at high speed all over the court in fits of rage - revealed that beneath the charming exterior lay a spoilt brat who was used to getting his own way. This was anathema to the more reserved, cerebral and plain-speaking Ian and had made him determined that the lad wouldn't get what he wanted out of him! So despite his physical attractiveness, he had decided that the boy was trouble and to keep well away from him. Matt didn't take the rebuff kindly and the sniggering at Ian's play from him and his mates had intensified.

With this lurking in the background, Ian made sure he was very business-like in the conversation he had with the youngster on the phone to agree the date and venue of their first-round match. His opponent explained that he had free access to some school courts during the summer holidays and given the club courts were so busy with tournament fixtures he suggested that they play their match there early that Saturday morning, when there would be no one around. Would that be okay?

Ian had readily agreed but then had second thoughts when the lad gave him directions and he realised it was a well-known public school - no doubt the one that Matt had attended when he was younger. Although he realised the choice of venue was intended to both impress and intimidate him, he went along with it anyway as he was curious to see what the place was like and guessed the facilities would probably be top notch.

1. The Wager

Just before 9am on Saturday, Ian entered the school's imposing front gate and parked his battered old Ford in the school car park which was deserted apart from two other vehicles - a Mercedes and a Range Rover. Ian wondered which one was Matt's, as he couldn't imagine he'd come there on the bus! Had he driven mummy's or daddy's car today he wondered?

As directed by his opponent, he called in at the porter's lodge, mentioned Matt's name and was given directions to the tennis courts where he was assured the youngster would be waiting for him. It was a glorious summer morning and although it was still early the July sun accompanied by a clear blue sky had already raised the temperature to 20 degrees - making him glad they had not left the fixture until the afternoon. Ian made his way to the courts through the deserted school buildings and out into the playing fields which were surrounded by acres of tree-studded parkland. He had attended a pretty decent school himself but nothing like this - it had far more in common with a university campus than a secondary school.

When he arrived at the tennis courts, at first, they appeared to be completely deserted, but upon hearing the sound of racquet on ball he eventually tracked down his opponent warming up on a lone court with staging around it, surrounded by a screen of trees.

As soon as he noticed Ian's arrival, Matt strode across to greet him and, as though he'd been psyching himself up to it, curtailed the usual pleasantries and instead asked Ian if he was averse to making the match "a little more interesting".

Expecting him to propose a bet on its outcome, something Ian had done on more than one occasion in the past, he was intrigued when instead the lad suggested that they both agree in advance to take off an item of clothing whenever they lost a game "to love".

Given his feelings about Matt, Ian's gut reaction was to dismiss his outlandish proposal out of hand but he managed to rein in his emotions and reply noncommittally.

"Hmm... have to think about that one! You got balls...?"

He calmly proceeded to unload his tennis bag at the side of the court and take a look around. He soon realised that the choice of court and the early start had clearly been no accident. There was not a soul to be seen or a sound to be heard apart from the chattering of the birds, and the combination of trees and staging meant the risk of them being observed was minimal. So, if they ended up playing tennis stark naked it was unlikely anyone would witness it! Maybe the lad had fooled around with his chums here in the past when he'd attended the school or, more likely, fantasized about doing so.

Clearly frustrated at the lack of an immediate answer to his proposal, Matt resumed practicing his serve, allowing Ian to consider the lad's motives as he unpacked his bag.

He clearly wasn't a boy who took rejection easily - so he either saw this as another clandestine opportunity to have sex with him or as a means of extracting his revenge - maybe even a combination of the two!

What was not in any doubt was that Matt clearly thought he was much the better player and that he was going to beat him hands down. He was the current holder of the title after all! However, given the on-court antics Ian had witnessed from his opponent, he quite fancied his chances of beating the youngster if he could just rile him sufficiently to put him off his game.

The prospect of publicly humiliating the over-privileged brat at the same time, by forcing him to strip naked on court, was a bonus he hadn't been expecting but an idea that he found a huge turn-on! It would certainly give him an incentive to play his very best tennis! So, despite the risk he ran of humiliating himself should the game go to form, Ian couldn't resist rising to the bait.

"I've never played strip tennis before," he responded as Matt approached the net to retrieve his practice balls, "But I'm willing to give it a go if you are! Guess it might be fun!"

Presumably relieved that his opponent hadn't taken offence or threatened to complain to the tournament organising committee about him for him making such a lewd suggestion, Matt awarded Ian a conspiratorial grin. Though with no witnesses around, it occurred to Ian that the lad would probably just have denied it if he had.

"But why don't we make it even more interesting" Ian added mischievously, "by agreeing that whoever wins gets to fuck the other one afterwards, as well? Would you be prepared to risk your cherry on the outcome of our game?"

"That would be just fine by me!" Matt replied unconvincingly. Didn't his opponent realise he was going to lose?

But it was clear to Ian that his proposal to up the stakes still further had unsettled the lad, just as he'd intended it to do. It had certainly wiped the grin off his face!

"With a condom of course!" Ian threw in as an afterthought intended to emphasise his greater sexual experience, before adding tongue in cheek, "You want it rough or smooth?" spinning his racquet to decide who got the choice of serving first.

Matt missed the joke but guessed correctly and opted to serve. Ian stared up into the cloudless sky and chose to start play at the end with the sun behind him. The two contestants shared the balls between them and strode manfully onto court.

Both had bulges tenting out the front of their shorts.

1. The First Set

The warm-up was unlike any Ian had experienced before with both players keen to impress and intimidate their opponent as much as they could as well as fine-tune their game before the real contest began. But, however much he tried, Ian couldn't prevent himself from imagining the lad opposite dashing around the court naked or from checking out his arse whenever he bent over to pick up a ball. His cock got even harder when he visualised draping the arrogant youngster's slender body over the net once he had beaten him and fucking him senseless!

With Ian still struggling to curb his sexual excitement, Matt began the match by raining down a sequence of fearsome serves. Had he not thrown in a double fault at game point through an overambitious second serve, Ian would have had to suffer the indignity of losing the very first game "to love"!

"Lucky!" Matt taunted as they changed ends. However, the remark unwittingly put Ian sufficiently on his metal for him to finally banish his amorous thoughts from his head and instead focus on winning the game. Although not serving as impressively as Matt, thankfully Ian managed to level the score at one-all after only losing just a couple of points.

But now into his rhythm, in the next game Matt slammed down 4 perfect serves which Ian had little hope of returning and at the change of ends claimed his first "prize" as he called it. Vowing that it would be the last thing he'd be taking off that day, Ian was about to strip off his shirt in good humour when to his annoyance his opponent picked up his smart phone and coolly took a picture of him.

"Hey! We didn't say anything about any pics!" he protested.

"But my pals at the club won't believe me if I don't have any pics to show to them what you agreed to!" Matt replied with a cheeky grin, revealing his intension to trumpet Ian's humiliation with his mates afterwards should he win.

"You can take pics of me with it as well," he conceded, "...if you ever manage to win a game to love! Or are you scared you're going to lose?"

Although Ian realised he was being hustled, Matt's taunts only increased his resolve to beat him now he knew that the lad's prime motivation was his humiliation. Taking pics would cut both ways and having a record of his opponent stripped naked on court would be a great trophy if he somehow managed to pull it off. Besides, if he backed down now it was tantamount to admitting that he thought he was destined to lose.

"Okay," he replied, "I'll go along with it if you're willing to take the risk - but I'll be taking pics of you on my own phone, thank you very much!"

"Fair enough.... if you ever have anything to take pictures of!" Matt shot back at his opponent with a smirk, continuing to take snaps as Ian revealed the defined torso that was the result of his twice weekly sessions at the gym.

"I'm looking forward to taking ones of you stripped completely naked," the younger man smirked, unintentionally awarding his opponent a backhanded compliment before setting down his phone so play could restart, "and then maybe some with you bent over the net waiting to get fucked," he added in an undertone, as he swaggered to the back of the court in an attempt to rile his opponent further.

"In your dreams!" Ian muttered defiantly under his breath, draping his shirt over the steps of the umpire's chair before picking up his racquet and striding purposefully to the opposite end of the court.

With stakes as high as this, Ian determined to stay alert and make damn sure that one way or another he won at least one point in every game in future. Fired-up by his anger, he managed to win his own service game pretty convincingly. He also avoided having to strip off anything else by winning a couple of points on his opponent's service game - returning one serve with a winner as he started to become more familiar with the lad's service action and gained some insight into where he tended to place the ball.

But once he'd secured his face-saving points, Ian couldn't stop his thoughts from running ahead. Setting aside the humiliation of having to play bare-arsed, if he were forced to remove his trainers it would put him at such a disadvantage that he would be bound to lose the match. He quickly did the maths. He could afford to lose 4 more games to love before he reached that point - his socks and his shorts bought him 3 and the jockstrap, that he had thankfully elected to wear that morning, another. If it came to it, he would just have to stomach the embarrassment of playing naked as hanging onto his footwear until last would be the only way of keeping his hopes of winning alive.

Ian kept pace with the lad for a couple more changes of end, but then with the score at 5:4 was unlucky on his serve. Matt too was getting better at reading his opponent's serve and got off to a flying start when he caught Ian flat-footed with a super-fast return, after which Ian had the misfortune to hit out what would have been a winning drive by little more than an inch. Two points down and Ian suddenly found himself beset by nerves; he hit his first serve into the net and took so much pace off the second one to ensure it went in, that Matt just wacked it away for a winner.

At love forty down, he threw caution to the wind and hit a blistering first serve down the middle of the court and followed it into the net. But yet again the lad had guessed where the serve was going and managed to get it back so quickly that it caught the edge of Ian's racquet and bounded sideways out of court. His opponent had not only broken serve and taken the first set but had also won himself a second love game!

The youngster couldn't stop himself from gloating as Ian sat down resignedly on the steps of the umpire's chair to remove one of his socks.

"First set to me... and half way to stripping you naked!" his opponent chuckled, setting down his racquet and picking up his phone to capture his opponent's latest indignity. Ian provided a false smile for the camera as he peeled off his sock and re-laced his trainer.

"Bring any sunscreen?" his opponent enquired cheekily, glancing up at the cloudless sky, "I think you'll need it!"

Although intended as a joke, Ian realised the lad was right, the pallid skin of his rarely exposed torso would soon burn up in the fierce sunlight. He opened up his tennis bag and took out the cream he'd had the forethought to pack along with the drink he'd brought to quench his thirst.

"Want me to rub some on your back?" his opponent volunteered, to his surprise.

"Why not!" Ian replied, realising that the sudden bonhomie came from the fact that the lad was winning, but nevertheless offering his opponent some of his drink in return as the lad foolishly appeared not to have brought any of his own.

This was turning into the hardest fought tennis match Ian had played in a long while - so the longer he got to recover before the second set commenced the better!

The youngster took a swig of his drink and quickly moved on to coating Ian's shoulders and back with sunscreen. "I'll do the rest for you later!" he quipped, cheekily patting Ian on the arse before handing back the cream.

"That's the closest you'll get to my arse today!" Ian retorted, spreading cream over his chest while the lad took yet more pics.

1. The Second Set

Ian was far from defeated yet! It had been pretty close thus far, so he was still in with a chance of winning the second set. It had also occurred to the ace strategist that the way his opponent had dreamed up the rules of his sexy little game he had opened up the possibility of him taking the final set however knackered he might be by that point - as whoever got to force his opponent to remove his trainers first would have such an advantage over the other, that they would literally walk away with the match.

So, Ian reset his game plan to put every ounce of his remaining strength and all his ingenuity into winning the second set and as many love games along the way as he could muster. If he could only manage to conjure up five of them and suffer no more than three such setbacks himself then victory could still be his.

Matt scraped home with the first game of the second set after a couple of deuces but by the end of it had lost none of his swaggering self-confidence. At the change of ends Ian recalled playing with his brother-in-law in doubles matches when he had often found himself under intense pressure to hold his serve. When his back was against the wall, he knew he could conjure up four fearsome first serves in a row - though without his more talented tutor at the net to kill off any returns it would be more of a challenge for him to clinch every point. However, he had done it in the past when he had had to and knew that if he put his mind to it, he could pull it off again.

So, in the next game that was exactly what he did. In barely a minute it was over and he had wiped the smile off his opponents' face.

"Hold on while I get my phone!" he demanded, halting play at one-all to take pics as his opponent reluctantly peeled off his tennis shirt and added it to that of Ian, adorning the umpire's chair.

"Soon have you running around naked!" he added, hoping that if he got the lad angry enough, he might provoke a fit of pique that would help him to disrupt his game.

The youngster seethed silently as they returned to court and play recommenced. Matt did his best to respond in kind but when Ian had the temerity to call "out" at what his opponent had taken to be an ace, the wheels soon started to come off. It had been a close call and the youngster was clearly doubly disappointed as he was intent on winning his service game to love, so made the mistake of accusing Ian of cheating.

Ian however was having none of it and refused to replay the point - he had been scrupulously fair in his line calls and had no intention of giving in to pressure from his opponent. After that, balls began flying forcefully out of court in all directions so that to Ian's delight instead of winning the game Matt ended up losing it to love himself.

At the change of ends, Ian could only grin as the troubled youngster sulkily unfastened one of his shoes to remove one of his socks, but refrained from making any comment.

"I may as well take my shorts off now if you're going to cheat!" the lad spat at him. But Ian refused to rise to the bait and concentrated on maintaining his own composure.

To his delight, the lad's sulks continued into the next game, allowing Ian once again to take it to love despite having one of his first serves called out by his opponent when he was damn sure it had been good.

Although it was 3:1 Ian held up the match until the youngster complied with their agreement and went to the umpire's chair to remove his other sock. Realising the indignity that awaited him should he lose another game to love, Matt finally managed to control his temper and steady the ship, but couldn't prevent Ian from winning a couple of points as he pulled out all the stops to wrap up the set by chasing down every ball in pursuit of another game against serve.

At the change of ends both players were sweating profusely and to show he bore no grudges, after taking a swig himself, Ian offered his drink to his opponent once again - only to have the offer refused.

"I'm okay, thank you, the match won't be going on for much longer," Matt predicted.

If anything was designed to stiffen Ian's resolve it was this remark. He kept his cool, pasted a grin on his face and went on court to play one of the best games of his tennis career.

There were a dozen deuces in a struggle that went on for almost fifteen minutes as Ian dug in his heels and refused to surrender his serve to the undoubtedly more talented youngster across the net. His limbs started to feel like lead as the tension combined with his haring around the court to retrieve any and every ball began to take its toll. He won the game, but began to wonder how on earth he was he was going to win another should his opponent continue to keep up such unrelenting pressure! Winning another three love games so he could secure a third-set victory seemed totally out of the question!

But their mammoth struggle had taken its toll on his opponent as well - not only physically but psychologically. The next words he heard Matt utter were not taunts about how easily he would beat him, but half heard fragments of him chastising himself for allowing himself to be beaten by such a "shit player" and something about being "knocked out in the first round" all of which was music to his ears. The guy was still a set ahead for Pete's sake! But his pride had taken a knock - he had plainly expected to beat him easily.

Matt's next service game was a pathetic shadow of what had gone before - it was almost as though the lad was trying to throw the set away. It started off with a double fault, which was followed by a half-hearted first serve that landed so short that Ian made mincemeat of it. Ian even started to feel sorry for the lad - but had witnessed similar things in the past and knew that if he let pity get the better of him there was always a chance his opponent would come bouncing back - in his experience it only took a couple of good shots in a row to restore a player's self- confidence.

So, presented with a two point advantage, Ian went hell for leather in pursuit of the other two and to his delight managed to secure another precious love game. While his opponent continued to curse himself at the back of the court, Ian took a seat beside the umpire's chair to rest his tired legs and slake his thirst.

It had been hard work but he was now 5:2 up and just needed to serve out the set to level the match. Realising he had yet another means of unsettling his opponent, Ian picked up his phone. "Not planning to renege on our agreement now you're losing, I hope?" he taunted, pointing the lens in Matt's direction.

The lad strode angrily toward him and without a word tore open his shorts, slid them off and threw them at the umpire's chair. Ian made sure he captured every moment of the lad's embarrassment and then let out a wolf whistle as he flounced to the back of the court naked from the ankles up, as, unlike himself, he discovered Matt hadn't taken the precaution of wearing a jockstrap!

Long hours of playing tennis in the summer sun had left the lad with tan-lines above his knees and around his waist, between which his otherwise golden-brown skin was pallid, making his low- hanging ball sack and slender dick appear all the more vulnerable at being exposed to the harsh light of day for the first time.

Although he was determined not to get ahead of himself and assume victory too soon, when Matt stood sullenly facing him at the other end of the court with only his racquet left to protect his modesty, Ian couldn't prevent himself from relishing the sight of the youngster getting the humiliation he so richly deserved.

With Matt now bare but for his shoes, Ian realised that he only needed to secure one more love game and his complete humiliation would be within his grasp! But the time for celebrations had not yet arrived he cautioned himself - Matt was quite capable of coming back even at this late juncture. So, despite the bulge filling out the front of his jockstrap, he chastened himself to set aside his feelings and concentrate his mind on winning the next game. If he succeeded in doing that, there would be plenty of time to savour his opponent's discomfort in the remainder of the match.

It turned out that Ian was right to be cautious, as his chiding seemed to stiffen Matt's resolve and, despite his embarrassment, he refused to let his nakedness get in the way of playing his normal game. He returned one of Ian's finest first serves well and despite his cock and balls bouncing around freely as he dashed around the court, managed to secure the first point with a winner down the line.

Ian thought it would be an advantage to play a naked opponent but while he remained as mobile as before, it didn't seem to make much difference! When Matt belted away a weak second serve for a winner as well, Ian started to regret that he had made fun of him before he'd had the set in the bag. What tactic would his brother-in-law have employed in similar circumstances he wondered?

Ian steadied himself and planted a good length first serve into the lad's backhand. Matt parried it down the line and Ian swept it back across court. The rally continued, four more ground strokes were exchanged as play switched from one side of the court to the other, until Matt decided to risk coming into the net. At that instant, the advice his mentor would have given him flashed into Ian's head and he belted the ball with all his might at the body of his opponent.

In response, Matt's survival instinct kicked in and he used all his skill to parry the shot away from his groin. But although he succeeded in safeguarding his manhood, the ball dribbled into the net and he lost the point!

"Sorry about that!" Ian apologised disingenuously, "You okay?"

Shaken, Matt gave Ian a glare and treated his opponent's "apology" with the contempt it deserved. Seething silently, he took up position to receive, realising, late in the day, that rescuing the second set was now his best chance of salvaging the match.

Equally determined that he should lose it, Ian psyched himself up to hit the hardest serve he could muster for the next point and set his sights on his opponent's torso. Although the ball overshot the service line it had Matt scampering out of its path and left him fearful of what might be coming his way next. Still in shock, the youngster was slow to reposition himself, allowing Ian to catch him unawares with a surprise drop shot second serve which the lad clocked too late to scramble back over the net. Matt let out a cry of frustration and shook his head in disgust at such despicable tactics, cursing his opponent under his breath.

With the score level and the set only two points from his grasp, Ian was in no mind to let up the pressure. He again attempted a heavy first serve but this time down the middle of the court and, to his opponent's surprise, followed it into the net. It went in, but Matt returned the ball so quickly that Ian was forced into doing a risky half-volley which dropped on the other side with little momentum leaving Ian stranded in mid-court, a sitting target.

Hell bent on revenge, Matt seized the opportunity to drive the ball at his opponent at a thunderous pace - only to have Ian step neatly out of its path and see it sail three feet over the baseline.

"Shit!" shouted Matt in torment, throwing his racquet down to the ground.

Ian could only chuckle at the histrionics at the other end of the court and, with his confidence soaring, swiftly put the lad out of his misery by belting an ace down the centre line.

"Stay for one," he added coolly, keen to move on as swiftly as possible to the next game while his opponent was still in disarray. If he could get the lad's trainers off him then the fun could really begin!

1. The Third Set

As he'd hoped, Matt was still so consumed by anger that his service game was a shambles. First and even second serves sped across the net at supersonic speeds with little chance of falling in and when he got lucky Ian made sure they were quickly dispatched.

"Happy now?" the lad demanded, tugging off his trainers and throwing them to the ground at Ian's feet as he calmly quaffed his drink beside the umpire's chair.

"Very happy!" Ian replied with a grin, picking up his phone and taking several pics of his overwrought opponent standing beside him completely naked.

"Turn around, will you, so I can get a shot of that cute ass of yours! I'm so looking forward to fucking it when I win the match!"

"You want a close-up?" Matt retorted, turning around and thrusting his bare arse cheeks defiantly in Ian's face.

"Yes, that's great!" Ian quipped in reply, refusing to be outdone.

"You ready to get on with it or you want to concede and let me fuck you now?"

"I'm not done yet" Matt retorted, "I can still beat the likes of you playing stark naked - probably left- handed and blindfolded as well! Plus, don't you forget, I only have to win a couple of love games and your shorts will be coming off as well!"

"Want to borrow some of my sun screen?" Ian replied, ignoring the lad's threats as he applied a second layer to his shoulders and torso, "We wouldn't want you getting a sunburnt bum or when I show these pics to your mates, they might think I gave you a spanking!"

With Matt lost for words, he made a lunge in the direction of the lad's arse with his cream coated hands, "I'll rub it in for you if you'd like!"

The youngster sped away to the far end of the court and vented his frustration by belting the balls over the net ready for the next game to commence, leaving Ian to ponder the tactics he should adopt to secure the match as he wiped his hands clean.

Although the court surface was not so abrasive as to make playing barefoot impossible - it would certainly slow Matt down and increase his risk of injury. So, he decided to abandon the high-risk strategy of targeting the lad's body in favour of getting him running around as much as possible. By this time, the sun was high in the sky so its heat would also help him to tire out his opponent - especially as he had brought no refreshment. He didn't need to win every game just hold his nerve, keep his head in front and avoid losing to love.

Of course, Matt might finally manage to control his emotions and overcome the handicap of playing without clothes or shoes, but with a minimum of six games needed for him to win, Ian knew the odds were now firmly in his favour. He could afford to relax a little and savour the sight of the club's golden boy dashing around the court stark naked in a desperate effort to rescue a match he had thrown away through his own arrogance and stupidity.

So, Ian put accuracy above pace in his serves this time round, preserving his energy to engage his opponent in long rallies using his strong ground strokes to get the lad running from side to side of the court, mixing in the occasional drop shot to lure him to the net and then lobbing over his head to make him run back to the baseline to start all over again.

However, when he ended up losing his service game after two deuces, it looked as though this change of tactic may have been a mistake. But he had also witnessed his opponent wince several times when he had stumbled or his tender feet had come across some grit on the smooth playing surface and noticed that even by the end of the game his soles had visibly reddened. Aware of his vulnerability, Matt adopted the opposite strategy of attempting to win points with as little running as possible, and in his service game, risked double faulting by making every one of his serves as heavy as possible.

He was rewarded with a love game and at the change of ends the consolation of watching Ian being forced to remove the second of his socks. It looked as though the match was swinging back in his favour - if he won more of his service games to love he might succeed in levelling the odds by making Ian play barefoot too!

"The shorts come off next!" Matt gloated after taking a picture of his opponent, "Then I get some target practice of my own!"

"Say's the bare-arsed champ!" replied Ian, giving his adversary a slap on the ass as he set down his phone!

Despite the provocation, Ian stuck with his tactic nevertheless, and in his own service game, not only succeeded in getting the youngster dashing around from one side of the court to the other but also in levelling the score at 2: 2.

Matt stuck to his strategy in response and peppered Ian with a succession of powerful serves. Although this time, he was not so lucky as to win the game to love, due to giving away a couple of double faults late in the game, he successfully avoided any running around the court in order to secure it.

When it was Ian's turn to serve, after falling behind in the score, the lad took his stratagem further by refusing to chase after balls that he saw little prospect of retrieving - realising that it no longer mattered if he failed to win no points at all as he was already naked.

With their scores tied at four-all, Ian had to make his move and take on the lad's serve. He now knew it would be a heavy one, so he stood well back to give himself more time to hit the return and straight off succeeded in cracking back a couple of outright winners. Once behind in the score, Matt was unable to take the risk of double faulting and reverted to a medium paced second serve that Ian had little problem getting back.

In response, Ian immediately stopped attempting to hit winners and opted instead to keep their rallies going for as long as possible - switching play from one side of the court to the other to increase the toll playing barefoot was having on the lad's increasingly tender feet. Faced with losing his serve, and the match, Matt had no alternative but to chase down every ball.

As the sun beat down mercilessly on the youngster's exposed body, he made one last-ditch attempt to ward off defeat. Although sweat kept trickling into his eyes to obscure his vision and down his arms to make his grip on his racquet less secure, Ian still didn't have things all his own way and the lad managed to draw level at deuce. But the longer the game went on, the more likely it looked like Ian's tactic would be the one to pay dividends.

Although Matt still succeeded in chasing down the ball, he now lacked the time to place his return well and the stamina to hit it hard enough to score a winner - allowing Ian to hit the ball from one side of the court to the other as though he had his opponent on a string. It would have been satisfying enough had the lad been fully clothed but add in the humiliation of him dashing around court stark naked and it was Ian's fantasy come true.

In fact, so turned on was Ian by the power he now held over the current club champion that he risked deliberately extending the game further by throwing away a couple of "ad" points just for the pleasure of keeping him running around the court bare arsed for a little longer. But he always punished Matt after his "reprieve" in the Deuce point by making him not only cover the court from side to side but also from front to back through a combination of drop shots and lobs.

The game finally came to an end with the lad flat out on the ground gasping for breath after he had thrown his racquet at a drop shot that he had no chance of retrieving. The score may have only been 5:4 but the match was over and both of them knew it!

When his opponent showed no sign of getting up, Ian walked around the net with a grin on his face, stood over his prostrated opponent and gave him a gentle kick in the ribs.

"On your feet!" he demanded, "one more game to go!"

"I can't! My feet are all blistered..." his opponent protested, "We'll have to finish the match some other time..."

"No, we damn well won't!" replied Ian angrily, "I beat you fair and square playing by your own stupid rules! It was you who dreamt up this game to get me prancing about in the nude, remember? If your plan backfired and you ended up with sore feet, tough shit!"

"Have a heart!" pleaded Matt with tears welling up in his eyes, "winning this tournament means a lot to me..."

"You should have thought about that before you started messing me around!" Ian replied landing another kick in the lad's ribs, harder this time.

"Get to the back of the court ready to receive serve!"

Knowing he had no right to complain and intimidated by his opponent's anger, Matt sullenly picked himself and his racquet up from the floor, limped to the baseline and stood there uncertain whether to make a serious attempt to return the ball or not.

Ironically, by this point Ian was so fired up that the lad was left with little to do in any case but stagger across from one side of the baseline to the other in between points while his adversary blasted one ace after another straight past him.

With Matt finally defeated, Ian retrieved his phone from the umpire's chair and added to his collection of pics ones of him standing forlornly at the back of the court on the brink of tears.

1. Playing the long game

Until that moment, Ian had been so focussed on avoiding humiliation and defeat that he'd had no time to think what he was going to do if he actually won. But as he gleefully took pictures of his younger opponent's naked body, basted in a coating of sweat and dirt, Matt's brain began working overtime.

Now he had won, his obvious course of action was to enjoy fucking his defeated opponent, report his victory over the current champion to the organising committee and enjoy the private pleasure and public adulation that came with the victory.

But knowing the snobbery of the club's membership, his hard-fought win would no doubt be dismissed as a fluke and fucking the lad, although highly satisfying, would be both brief and transitory.

No, what appealed to him much more was the idea of having charming and handsome, Matthew Braithwaite, tennis club champion, ex-public-school boy, spoilt brat of rich parents, as his sub for the rest of the summer!

Why settle for just fucking him once, when he could stick it to him every day? He wanted to have him around to suck his dick, down on his knees, whenever he snapped his fingers. He also wanted to teach the arrogant little bugger a few lessons in humility, get him to stop the on-court tantrums and get him to respect other players. He wanted to provide him with the manners and discipline his parents had clearly failed to supply him with!

That the lad was fucked up sexually, Ian had little doubt. But he was willing to voluntarily shoulder yet another of his parents' neglected responsibilities and provide their son with some sex education and introduce him to the harsh facts of life.

In other words, Ian wanted today's victory not to be a one-off but the start of something more enjoyable and long lasting!

Winning the club tournament meant nothing to him - he'd doubted he'd progress much beyond the first round in any case. Winning it would allow him to stick two fingers up to the whole snobby lot of them, but it would also take a supreme effort for him to beat seven more opponents in order to do so, when actually, he didn't care a toss what the other club members thought about him!

To Matt on the other hand, winning the club tournament was of great importance. He was so used to the adulation he got from both his younger and older admirers, despite his short-comings, that he was desperate to retain his title and win it for a third time in a row.

He'd also have to live with the shame of having lost in the first round to a player as unconventional as himself, someone whose game he'd previously made fun of! Plus, what would his mates think of him should they ever get to see the pictures he'd allowed him to take of him stripped naked on the tennis courts of his old school after his defeat?

But there was also an even more important reason, as far as Matt was concerned, as to why he needed to win the tournament again this year. One that, unknown to the lad, Ian was fully aware of. A reason that meant if Ian offered to allow the kid to report that he had won their game and not himself, he would grab it with both hands. A reason so persuasive that it gave him sufficient leverage over Matt to make his dreams of turning him into his sub come true!

But before testing the water, Ian opted to strengthen his hand as much as he could.

"Come over here!" Ian called across to the lad, "Time for me to claim my prize!"

Matt limped reluctantly toward him, fully expecting his own rhetoric to be used against him and for Ian to drape him over the net and fuck his arse there and then.

To Ian's surprise the lad was not only snivelling but, despite the heat, also trembling.

"Get down on your knees!" he commanded, nevertheless.

Matt hesitated and glanced around nervously but after checking no one was watching decided he had best comply.

Ian slid down his shorts to reveal his pumped thighs and between them his fully engorged cock - its purple head glistening with pre-cum in the sun.

"Suck it!" he demanded pressing it against the youngster's lips.

Although Matt took his conqueror's member into his mouth without complaint, it soon became obvious to Ian that he hadn't done this before!

"Open your mouth wider and keep your teeth out of the way!" he directed. Reluctantly, Matt adjusted his jaw and allowed Ian to slide his cock deeper inside him.

"That's better!" he responded, stroking the lad's sweat-laden hair to show his appreciation as he gently slid his shaft rhythmically in and out between his taut lips.

"Good lad!" he commended with a satisfied sigh.

Despite his rising excitement, Ian took care not to insert his cock too deeply so as to avoid the lad choking. In his book, it was far more humiliating for a guy to submit to him willingly than to be forced. No point being rough if he already had the lad's co-operation! Besides, teaching Matt to take his cock deep throat could easily come later!

"Remember to purse your lips when you suck and start using your tongue to lick around the head to make it more enjoyable for me!" he coached.

Grateful for his gentleness, when he'd feared something far more violent from his enraged opponent, Matt did as he was told.

"Close your eyes and concentrate on sucking!" Ian added, holding up his mobile and switching the camera setting to video.

"Now take my cock out of your mouth and run your tongue up and down my shaft..."

The lad did as he was told.

"Now lick my balls..."

Within minutes, Ian had captured some deliciously humiliating close-ups of the naked lad obediently licking the sweat from his genitals.

Ian's excitement grew as he contemplated the increased power he now held over the youngster as a result of the pictures he had just taken.

Whether he realised it or not, soon the prime focus of Matt's indolent student life would not be playing tennis but providing him with sexual pleasure!

With such thoughts in his head, Ian's breathing rapidly quickened, as did the pace of his thrusts into the youngster's mouth.

Worried lest having to swallow his spunk would freak out his novice cock sucker, at the last moment Ian withdrew his dick from between his jaws and instead sent a hail storm of white semen cascading over the rich boy's tanned features.

"Keep your eyes closed, until I wipe it off!" barked Ian, as he savoured his release and watched the globules of his cum gradually liquefy and dribble down the rest of his defeated adversary's body. Revenge didn't come much sweeter than this!

"Stay still!" he added, hopping across to the umpire's chair and picking up Matt's discarded tennis shirt, before solicitously using it to wipe his glistening cum from his eyelids, nose and mouth.

"Now you can open your eyes!" Ian added, rewarding the lad with a grin once he was done.

Surprisingly, Matt smiled back! Apparently relieved that his cock sucking debut had not proved as unpleasant as he'd imagined it would be and even proud to have brought Ian off so quickly. Little did he suspect that it was Ian's thoughts of his future humiliation that had actually caused him to climax so rapidly and that his ordeal was still a long way from over.

1. The Reprieve

"You just won yourself a reprieve." Ian announced, fastening up his shorts.

Matt looked up at him quizzically.

"As you turned out to be such a talented cocksucker, I'm willing to make you a deal."

"What kind of a deal?" replied Matt, holding his breath.

"I'd be willing to say you won the match so you get through to the next round on condition that I get to fuck you whenever and wherever I want for the rest of the summer."

"Wow!" was the only reply immediately forthcoming, but at least it was clear that the kid was not rejecting his offer out of hand.

"Don't get me wrong - I'm not offering to become your boyfriend or anything! What I have in mind..."

"That's okay," Matt interrupted breathlessly, "sex would be just fine!"

"Hold on - let me finish!" Ian snapped, pausing before resuming.

"What I was going say, is that what I've got in mind is much more humiliating - having you as my sex slave."

"Shit! You can't be serious!"

"Sure I am! If you want a chance of winning the tournament for the third time Matt, then that's what you're going to have to become!"

It was sometimes useful being ignored in the locker room by the club's regulars, as if you kept your eyes and ears open you picked up all the gossip. Including the confidence Matt had foolishly shared with his mates that his father had promised to buy his him a car of his own if he succeeded in winning the club tournament for a third time...

Ian hadn't realised then just how useful this piece of information would turn out to be. Now he saw he could use it to his advantage, as Matt would likely agree to just about anything he proposed in order to remain in the tournament.

"Hmm," the lad pulled a face but then added meekly, "What would becoming your "sex slave" involve exactly?"

"Doing as I say sex-wise is the main thing - by which I mean doing whatever I tell you to whenever and wherever I want - however inconvenient, humiliating or embarrassing it might be!" replied Ian.

"There'd also be no wanking off or sex allowed with anybody else without my permission and if I find out you've been cheating or lying to me then I'm going to lock up your cock and throw away the key for the duration!"

"How long would I have to be your "sex slave" for?" the lad enquired, clearly taking the idea seriously.

"Until you win the tournament!" replied Ian, "Less if you get knocked out before."

While Matt thought about it, Ian attempted to reassure him further.

"I'm not talking about 24/7 slavery cos I'll be working most days so you'll still be free to do what you like most of the time and will continue to live with your parents. But I'd expect you to serve me in the evenings and at weekends whenever I want. I'll send you your instructions by text every day."

"And for that, you'll let me say I won today?"

"That's the deal! But don't think you can get away with agreeing to it now and going back on it later once you've got what you want. Thanks to you, I have a whole set of embarrassing pics that I won't hesitate to send to all your mates if you dare to double-cross me."

"You know I can do it easily - their phone numbers and emails addresses are all on the tournament noticeboard."

"I'll agree if you delete the pics now!" Matt tried to negotiate.

"I will, eventually," Ian conceded, "but not until I know you've kept your side of the bargain," Ian replied firmly.

"With no copies made," Matt demanded.

"Agreed! I'll keep them on my phone - so I can have the pleasure of looking at them every now and then to remind me how I trounced you... and possibly for other purposes!" Ian added with a wink.

"Can we say I beat you 6:0, 6:0?" the lad added cockily in response, suddenly no longer feeling afraid of what his opponent might have in store for him.

"Now you're pushing it!" Ian replied with a grin, although he'd been defeated, the cocky lad hadn't lost any of his ability to charm!

"I was thinking something closer to the real score 6:4, 4:6, 6:3 would reflect my playing abilities more accurately!" Ian retorted.

"Okay - you have a deal! You can do what you like with me!" the lad replied, keen to seal the deal.

"In that case, you can demonstrate you mean what you say by handing me your racquet and bending over the net with your legs spread wide apart!"

Matt swallowed hard, he'd not been expecting this!

After thinking he'd blown it completely and lost the chance of starting his next term at college driving the new car his dad had promised to buy him if won the tournament, Matt was loathed to throw it away a second time.

If getting spanked by this hard-assed gay guy was the only way he was going to hang onto his reprieve - he would just have to grin and bear it!

After taking a deep breath, the youngster stepped forward and draped himself over the net.

Unsatisfied with his positioning, Ian kicked his legs wider apart to splay his buttocks.

He then paused to take a couple more pics of him in this ignominious position before picking up Matt's racquet from the court, pressing its strings into the soft white flesh of the lad's backside and taking a couple of practice swings.

Let him make a joke about this!

"I fancied you a lot when I first saw you..." Ian declared, prior to landing the first blow.

"But I made the mistake of letting it show..." he added, landing a second blow a little harder than the first, "and the next thing I knew I had your pals sniggering behind my back and scampering out of the locker room whenever I appeared as though their lives were in danger!"

A much harder whack followed.

"Then came the snobby remarks about the way I play," smack, "pairing me up with partners who were completely useless..." an even harder blow, "and whenever I did get a decent game, having you question my line calls, say my serve aces were out and fiddling the score whenever you thought you might lose..." three whacks in quick succession!

"Then this latest insult today," whack, "thinking beating me would be a breeze..." whack, "and that you could get away with humiliating me to your mates by showing them my pics afterwards ..." whack! "I think you earned yourself a good thrashing for that..." whack, "Don't you agree?"

Ian continued to exorcise his anger by raining a dozen more blows on Matt's arse until the boy's ivory buttocks were cross-hatched with red welts from the racquet strings.

"That'll do for today" he declared when the lad began to whimper, "but unless you change your ways this won't be the last beating you'll be getting from me! If I ever witness you playing up or throwing your weight around on a tennis court again then you'll be getting another! Understand?"

"I understand!" confirmed a contrite Matt, by now desperate for his punishment to end.

"This spanking has been long overdue!" Ian declared, moving on to take pics to record the lad's latest humiliation.

"Hold your buttocks apart so I can take some pics of your hole!" he demanded to up the ante even more.

Obediently, Matt meekly pulled apart his reddened cheeks to allow Ian to photograph the most intimate part of his anatomy and to record the toll the beating had exacted on his previously unblemished rump for all to see.

"Good - now we're making some progress!" Ian replied, thinking that this time the lad's submission seemed more genuine.

He ran his hand menacingly over the lad's tender backside and then delved between his legs to gather up his shrunken dick and balls in his palm and give them a squeeze. The lad raised no objection and to Ian's delight even spread his legs wider to allow him better access! While he had him by the balls, he couldn't resist testing his obedience further.

"As a mark of respect in future you're going to address me as "Sir" whenever you speak to me - in public as well as private."

He paused before adding, "As from now!"

It took a while for the penny to drop, before Matt eventually caught on and provided him with the desired reply.

"Yes Sir!" he croaked.

"Excellent!" beamed Ian, "Don't you dare forget or you'll get a slap."

"Now, what will I call you, I wonder?" Ian mused, mischievously, "Boy, bitch, sub, slave, slut... are all possibilities. But now I think about it, one stands out as being the most apposite! Plus it even rhymes with your name!"

"Can't you guess what, Matt?"

"No Sir!" the lad replied, knowing it was bound to be demeaning.

"From now on I'll be calling you "brat"! Matt by name and brat by nature!" he chuckled at his own joke.

"I'm not going to fuck you today, brat!" Ian announced after releasing his balls and playfully probing the lad's sweat coated anus with the tip of his finger, "So you can relax! I haven't got a condom on me for one thing. But I'll have one at the club after work on Monday - so make sure you're there waiting for me and on your best behaviour."

"Plus, as a lesson to you, by Monday you'll have shaved off your pubes and will keep them shaved until you learn to behave better than a spoilt child! Got that brat?"

"Yes Sir," replied Matt with little enthusiasm, now willing to agree to anything to bring his ordeal to an end.

"Good!" responded Ian, judging that he had belittled his opponent as much as he dare for the time being, "Make sure you do it!"

1. In the Umpire's Chair

It was now mid-morning and someone from the school could easily come along and disturb them at any moment. But before taking his leave, Ian had one last humiliation in store for Matt.

"Just to show you I'm a benevolent master, I'm going to allow you to wank-off before I go," he announced, wrapping his arm around the lad's bare shoulders and ushering him sore-footed toward the umpire's chair.

"I know how horny you must have got dreaming up that little strip tennis game of yours and thinking about seeing me naked - so up you get!"

He then slapped Matt on his sore backside as he slowly clambered up the steps on his tender feet until he was standing precariously on the seat at the top.

"Start wanking!" he demanded.

Matt looked around nervously to check he was not being observed before reluctantly sliding his fist around his flaccid cock and tugging on it.

Meanwhile Ian gathered up his belongings and relocated to a shaded area of the staging at the side of the court. There he proceeded to dress before taking pictures of the former public schoolboy displaying his freshly spanked arse and masturbating naked in public in the grounds of his "alma mater".

Matt eventually managed to get himself erect. Ian had been right, the lad had wanked off the night before dreaming about stripping his opponent naked. Now he had the memory of own humiliation to wank-off over!

As aware as Ian that he could be discovered at any minute, the lad began wanking hell for leather to achieve orgasm as fast as he could.

Circling around him, Ian captured every inch of the lad's lithe young body exposed by the bright sunlight to the megapixel cam: every hair coating his slender limbs and surrounding his cock; his smooth chest; his slender neck; his handsome face flushed scarlet with sexual excitement; his lips parted and his eyes now half-closed as he became lost in his own pleasure.

Suddenly the lad let out a mighty groan, and gushes of his semen spurted out of the tip of his slender dick and cascaded down the steps of the umpire's chair and onto the court below.

"Well done, brat!" Ian applauded in approval as he added a few final snaps to his collection. "Now close your eyes, put your hands on your head and count down from a hundred. I'll be keeping an eye on you, so don't you dare get down until you're done!"

With that, Ian hastily stuffed Matt's clothes and possessions into his tennis bag and quit the court in the direction of the car park with a holdall slung over each of his shoulders.

He paused once along the way to check that Matt had followed his instructions and to take a wide angle shot of the youngster publicly exposing himself in a location that would be instantly recognisable by anyone familiar with the school.

As he made his way through the campus buildings, he passed a gaggle of youngsters dressed in tennis gear heading down to the courts and gave them a big grin.

To be continued.....

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