Donald was a member of a tennis club near his house where the courts were floodlit in the evening. We often met there and played the best of three sets before going back to join Susan for dinner. Our game was improving, although his shots could be wildly inaccurate; he served a good number of double faults. I, on the other hand, never made a mistake. I never served an ace, I never hit a winner, I simply returned every ball and never served a double fault. Sometimes rallies could continue for several minutes until Donald managed to pass me at the net, or forced me to run from side to side and then fooled me into thinking he was about to hit the ball in one direction and, instead, hit it the other way and won the point.

One night we were the last to finish, and thus the last in the bar to have a beer after the game. The groundsman was sweeping the courts for the next day and turning out all the lights when we went into the dressing room. We stripped and stood under the cold showers. I was used to Donald’s body now, and watched him losing weight as the high summer approached, his belly and his breasts less fleshy every time we played. His body was strong; his chest and legs and arms were hairy; there was some hair on his back. But there was nothing graceful or beautiful about him. All the same, I found his maleness attractive and I could imagine sleeping with him and becoming excited by his strength.

I was drying myself while he was still in the shower. I put my foot on the bench to dry my leg. He was talking about renovating his own tennis court. I was standing with my back to him drying my stomach while he spoke. I did not notice him coming toward me. Without warning, he put his arms around my chest and pulled my body against his. I could feel the softness of his dick and balls against me. I could feel his breath on my neck as he tried to lift me in the air. I could have elbowed him in the stomach, but I did nothing. He was careful in the way he behaved to suggest that this was just a friendly moment in a shower room. When he took his hands away, he moved them down to my balls and then felt my ass. When I turned he could see that I had a hard-on. I looked at his dick, but it was hanging down loose.

“It doesn’t take much to get you excited,” he said. He was smiling as though he had discovered something that he had always wanted to know. I was embarrassed. I went to my locker to get my clothes. My dick was still hard. He dried himself facing me.

“Do you do that to many guys?” I asked him.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”