The Tennis Trollops

Five 18-year-old male tennis players receive some unexpected but delightful female visitors in their hotel rooms when their official tour of Thailand starts.

In some parts of the world, sports betting is out of control. Gambling on athletic competitions is so prominent that one sometimes questions whether or not any unexpected result happened legitimately or if an athlete or team dumped a match for the benefit of professional gamblers. This has been going on for decades. About 45 years ago, I surprisingly experienced a match-rigging scheme on the other side of the globe when I was a teenager. I had to say I loved every minute of it as it involved unexpected sexual romps with some very comely females.

As an 18-year-old in 1979, I was a fairly good amateur tennis player in my hometown in Canada. Was I anywhere near being at the professional level? No. However, I could hold my own against almost every player my age. Therefore, I was on the radar of some people who ran the sport in my province. One of the top local coaches in my area became friendly with the head of Thailand’s sports federations. Somehow, it was arranged that a group of five of the best under-19 male tennis players from my area would compete in what was billed as a “challenge series” against Thai players of the same age! I was honored to be chosen as one of them.

The event would take place in three Thai cities. The first stop on the tour was a midsize city called Phuket on August 8. We had to raise a lot of money to pay for the airfares of seven people (five teenage players and two coaches) to get to and from that Asian country from Canada—and we managed to do it with lottery funds and other means. The Thai government—anxious to have decent sporting opposition visit their country—would pay for virtually all our expenses once we arrived there. At each stop on the itinerary, five best-of-three-set matches would be played. Sometimes the site would be indoors, sometimes it would be an open-air outdoor venue. We honestly did not know until we got to the city the day before the scheduled match.

Upon landing in Thailand, we were surprised to discover that we were celebrities. The media in that country eagerly promoted our visit as if it were something akin to a Davis Cup tie instead of a mere exhibition featuring wide-eyed teenage lads. The five Canadian players, all 18-year-olds, were interviewed by print journalists and television reporters. We even appeared on a popular sports program that had translators to assist us with answering questions from the studio audience.

We were told, much to our surprise, that there were already significant amounts of money being wagered on our matches. The vast majority of the bets were being made in Asia. We all laughed at the idea that anyone would care that much about an event that was getting virtually zero publicity back home outside of a couple of small articles in our local newspapers. “We are not household names in Canada,” I tried to explain to one Thai journalist, “sometimes not even in our own households!” I’m not sure he understood my attempt at humor.

During the long plane ride to southeast Asia, our two coaches, Mr. Campbell and Mr. Forbes, had distributed lengthy questionnaires to the five of us. We were told their purpose was to generate publicity about the event. There were about a dozen pages to fill out. Most of the questions in the survey were ordinary and totally expected. They were about tennis (of course), along with our interests beyond the sport: our families, favorite foods and beverages, books, TV shows, musicians, and so forth. Our coach said our answers would be parts of our profiles that would appear in print—and that we should do our best to cooperate fully. Fair enough. This was all very heady stuff and quite exciting for the five of us.

However, the questions on the last page were beyond the norm and provided a complete surprise to the five of us. They asked us—18-year-old boys—about what kind of girls we preferred. There were even pictures of various female body types, and we were to circle which ones we liked best! “Go along with it, guys,” our coaches advised. “They are our hosts. Maybe this is normal for visiting athletes to answer these odd types of questions.” I didn’t take the last page too seriously. In fact, I chose to not answer anything on the back page at all. Mr. Forbes returned my incomplete survey to me and ordered me to answer all the questions I had bypassed. Without a lot of thought, I wrote “young and sexy” in the “ideal body type” section and randomly circled a few girls’ pictures just to comply.

We later found out that last page was not part of the official survey. Somehow a Japanese gambling syndicate had successfully bribed someone in the Thailand Tennis Federation to include that last page of questions. Apparently, we were overwhelming favorites to win every match, so a great deal of money could be won by a gambler who bet on a Thai player to beat any of us. Those odds were typically 10:1.

That final survey page had been designed to expose our lustful weaknesses. For years, boxing managers believed in keeping their fighters celibate before big bouts. Having sex shortly before a match was supposedly bad for an athlete. It was said to reduce his stamina, make his legs tired, and other hogwash. Boxing manager Gil Clancy once joked that a fighter did not get significantly tired from sexual activity before a bout; he instead got tired from staying up late into the night hoping to find some compliant female! To this day, I still believe there is a lot of truth and wisdom in Mr. Clancy’s amusing statement.

On August 7, our party of seven arrived in Phuket. After talking to reporters briefly, we were bused to a local hotel. It wasn’t especially luxurious by North American standards, but it was satisfactory. We were each given individual rooms—which was a nice touch—even though our coaches had assumed we’d likely have to share a room with a teammate. Our matches the next day would begin at approximately 11 a.m. at an outdoor tennis venue that had clay courts. My match was the second of five to be played. Clay was my preferred surface, so I was quite confident as I prepared to go to bed for a good night’s rest.

I had slipped into some light pajamas when I heard a loud knock on my door. When I opened it, a middle-aged man in a well-tailored suit was standing there with a grin on his face. I recognized him as one of the Thai tennis officials. He had been responsible for much of the event’s publicity, making sure we were meeting with the media at the correct places and times, and other such duties. This knock on my door, I can attest, was totally unscheduled.

Standing beside the man was a pretty girl, who was short in stature but extremely attractive. She had yellow ribbons in her hair which, I suspect, was designed to make her look younger than she truly was. She was wearing a pristine, white t-shirt with a clown’s face on it. She wore a black skirt but no shoes or socks. He gently pushed this adorable creature across the threshold into my room. He said a few words to her in Thai—which, of course, I did not understand. She nodded to the man without saying a word herself.

After saying my full name, he declared, “Courtesy of the Thailand Tennis Federation, I present a surprise bedmate for you tonight! Enjoy yourself!” He gently patted the girl on her head. He then left the room, shutting the door behind him. The girl looked at me with large, wondering, doe-like eyes and a pleasant smile. She looked vaguely like the cute Asian girl from my neighborhood who walked by my house on her way to school every morning.

I had heard that sex in Thailand was easily bought and sold—and my friends kidded me about visiting a nation that was the equivalent of a carnal Disneyland, but no one had prepared me for this situation. Then it occurred to me why it was happening. It was the old boxers’ myth! Having a sexual romp the night before my match was supposed to handicap my play the next day. The theory was that I would be too exhausted from a vigorous evening of fucking to play tennis well. I assumed my four Canadian teammates (and perhaps my two coaches, too!) all had local females personally delivered to their rooms to perform sexual favors. It was being done, of course, for the benefit of gamblers somewhere who had wagered, at long odds, for us to lose our matches the next day. This situation was so bizarre that I actually laughed out loud for a moment or two—which brought a puzzled expression to the face of my pretty, young visitor.

I tried to communicate with my unexpected roomie, but it seemed her English was as non-existent as my Thai. All I got was a shrug when I asked her to say her name. Other general questions got no response as well. However, when I asked her, “How old are you?” she seemed prepared for that specific query. She held up both hands and flashed me all 10 fingers. Then, a moment later, she held up eight fingers. I interpreted that to mean she was 18 years old. I took that to be gospel, but she certainly could have fooled me. Then she said her first words to me: “I 18 years old. I here to do sex with tennis man.” It was obviously a script she had been taught. She added one further sentence that erased any possible doubts about her nocturnal plans. “I fuck you very nice all night long,” she promised.

Since I didn’t want to rudely turn down a gift and negatively affect Canada’s international relations with a foreign country, I decided to take this unexpected opportunity to prove the boxers’ myth was a lot of baloney. “Okay,” I said in deliberately broken English, “I fuck you nice and hard all night long, too!”

She nodded, so she seemed to understand at least part of what I had just said. She pulled off her clown t-shirt and exposed a very flat chest. Then she dropped her skirt to the floor. Her panties had a design of small red hearts printed on them. They fell to the floor shortly thereafter, too. Then she uttered another rehearsed statement. “Tennis man like me, yes?” It occurred to me that she was the real, flesh-and-blood response to the survey I had completed on the airplane. I had just randomly circled pictures merely to satisfy Mr. Forbes’ demand. I must have chosen her, or a reasonable facsimile, from the girls on the menu.

“Well, you are certainly attractive,” I agreed. “I can’t say I dislike you.” I sat down on a corner of the bed. She approached me. She pleasantly smelled of scented soap and shampoo. I suspected she had been specifically cleaned up for her visit to my room.

I gently put my hands on her waist. She boldly placed her right hand on my crotch. I got the hint and swiftly removed my pajamas. Now naked and with a rising phallus, I sat down on the bed again. She stepped forward and began to rub my dick. I got the impression that she was quite experienced in this line of work. I strongly suspected she had been instructed to make me come quickly and frequently—all the better to leave me too exhausted for quality tennis the next day. This plan of hers annoyed me.

In response, I decided to start our carnal encounter by gently fondling her goodies, but then suddenly become very sexually aggressive shortly thereafter with her. Accordingly, I started to finger her shaved vagina. I used soft strokes at first, but within a minute I was heavily petting it. I eventually stuck the middle finger of my right hand into its hole and repeatedly thrusted it in and out of her. I toned down my behavior just a touch to caress her sexy set of tits with my free left hand. When her nipples started to rise, I sucked on them very aggressively. All the while I kept on ramming a finger into her vagina which was becoming wet from the steady, repeated penetration.

I was torn about what to do next. It was a tossup between getting oral sex or just shoving my very aroused penis into her cunt and fucking away. I decided I needed a little of the first option and she needed a lot of the second one. I got her into a sitting position on the bed and pointed my hard dick at her lips. She knew what to do and started to lick the head. (I must admit she was pretty good at this task.) Nevertheless, I started to shove it in her mouth progressively harder until she was drooling heavily and gagging slightly. “Enough of that, my sexy little visitor!” I ordered.

I removed my nicely stimulated dick from her mouth and put it where nature intended it to go. I used my weight advantage to pin her to the bed. I spread her legs apart. I must say her bare, youthful pussy looked wonderful. (Maybe it wasn’t totally random when I circled the pictures of the girls similar to her on that survey!) I didn’t gaze at her most important physical asset for too long. The lure of penetrating this petite whore was overwhelming—so I gave into it. I mounted her, inserted my meat into her pussy, and thrusted away as if my life depended upon it. I brought her to an orgasm—which I knew was her plan with me. I was no longer myself. I was usually a gentle soul, but I kept fucking her harder and harder. After about 10 minutes of this rough coitus, I reduced the frequency of my thrusts, but I drove them deeper into this girl’s vagina. I knew an ejaculation was imminent. I raised my torso, keeping her impaled with my throbbing rod, let out a shout of ecstasy and triumph, and unloaded a sizable cum shot into her tunnel.

I didn’t want her to get up, so I remained on top of her, still with my hard penis inside her lovely little fuck hole. When it became flaccid, I eventually pulled it out and put it back into her mouth. While she licked off the remnants of my ejaculation, my erection began to return. I decided she definitely needed another load from me, but how and where had yet to be decided.

As I pondered my options, there was another knock on my door. I suspected it might be the hotel’s night manager investigating the noisy sexual activity coming from my room. It wasn’t. The Thai tennis official had returned. Along with him was another girl of similar stature but slightly taller. She looked to be slightly older than clown-shirt girl. This fine specimen of Thai womanhood was clad in a sky-blue sun dress. She too was barefoot.

He guided her to the foot of my bed where I was gently groping my first visitor’s succulent breasts. He seemed pleased that I was enjoying my first gift. “A second gift from the Thailand Tennis Federation, young sir. We hope you enjoy this one, too.” I did. I couldn’t be bothered with trying to converse with her. I just wanted to fuck her cunny. I took my time disrobing her and fondling her essential parts. Then I relaxed on my back while she rode me. I kept clown-shirt girl busy at the same time; I had her massaging my testicles. With my two pretty bedmates’ combined sexual prowess at work on me, it only took me about 15 minutes to fire another load of hot cum—this one into the snug pussy of sundress girl. All three of us must have fallen asleep around the same time. I had a trollop on each side of me when my eyes opened at 4 a.m. I let sundress girl remain asleep, but I woke up clown-shirt girl and roughly fucked her doggy style until I attained my third orgasm. Then I fell asleep again for another four hours.

As was planned in our group’s official agenda, I met my teammates in the hotel lobby at 9 a.m. as we were scheduled to enjoy a team breakfast with our Thai opponents just before 10 o’clock. The five of us all looked at one another with smiling faces as if we all had something we were dying to discuss. I finally broke the silence by asking, “Did all of you get special visitors last night?” They all had. Each one (but me) had been visited by one—and just one—well-endowed adult prostitute. (That told me that my buddies had all circled the pictures of busty females). I was the outlier—I had preferred youth to oversized jugs. For some reason my choices on the survey, random as they were, had gotten me double the pleasure and double the fun compared to my fellow Canadians’ surprise bedmates. (Who knows why that was the case? Perhaps it was because I had done the best and wittiest interviews at the press conference.) I let them assume I had gotten just one harlot, just like they had all received. They never learned my secret.

Oh, yes: I won my match handily that day, 6-2, 6-1. None of my teammates lost a set in their matches, either. This no doubt disappointed some high-stakes gambler somewhere in Asia who had paid for five young, healthy and horny Canadian boys to have the night of their lives.