© 2025 Duleigh Lawrence-Townshend. All rights reserved. The author asserts the right to be identified as the author of this story for all portions. All characters are original. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead is purely coincidental. This story or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a review or commentary.

This story just popped into my mind one morning, and I was able to get it together for your reading pleasure. If you like the characters, please let me know, and I'll find more for them to do. It was written for the 2025 Summer Lovin' Contest.

Hot Volleyball Wager

I don't know what I was looking for; I had a good job, a nice car, and a perfect apartment. Men? Who needs them? Women? They're worse than men. I tried both, and in the end my best friend was a cat named Earl. I would have the 'girls' from work come over at least once a month and we'd drink wine and cackle. I occasionally dated, but I didn't go out enough to meet guys. In the end, everyone I knew was from work, and I don't date guys from work.

It was the end of August when I realized that I hadn't done anything all summer. Work. Home. Work. Home. The only thing that broke up the week was the weekend, when I'd clean and sometimes go visit Marj. Marj was a friend from work who had a nice place out in Franklin, and she was throwing a Labor Day party. She came over for the August edition of Girls vs. Wine and said, "You have got to come, everyone here is coming." Everyone here was Marj, Kat, Shirley, and me.

"I don't know, I don't hang out with folks from work," I said, trying to get out of the invitation.

"Everyone here is from work," insisted Kat, a tiny blond who got giggly halfway through her first glass of wine.

"Come on, Pam, it's not far and the food is worth it!" said Shirley, who obviously enjoyed a good meal.

"I don't..." As I fumbled for an excuse, Marj got up and with a black sharpie she marked her party on my calendar in huge letters - Party!!! Marj's House. 1:00 PM.

"There," said Marj proudly. "It's on your calendar; you have to come now."

I looked at my calendar, and she ruined the color-coding scheme. Black was for holidays, red was for parties and dates, and this would have made the third red entry on the calendar this year. And she circled it! Circling a date was for birthdays. It's too late to get a new calendar for this year, so I guess I am committed. "Ok, I'll come late, eat, then leave early."

"Spoken like a true socialite. Bring a bathing suit."

"You have a pool?"

"A pond," said Marj proudly.

"Eww! That's gross!" I cried.

"Why?" asked Shirley. "It's a great pond; the water is perfect come Labor Day."

"Fish fuck in it!" I nearly shouted, which gave Kat a case of the giggles.

"So do party-goers," said Marj with a grin. "If you want to play volleyball you need a bathing suit."

"Why? It's volleyball!" I love volleyball; I even made the team in college. Hell, if she had said volleyball earlier, I would have come without question.

"It's BEACH volleyball," said Marj happily. "Derryl put in a sand court last year."

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On Labor-day weekend I made my way out to Marj and Derryl's farm in Franklin, a rural town out in farm country. Marj was a manager in accounting, while her husband, Derryl, was an engineer for Bendorf Electrical, a local electronics company that had just landed a few huge contracts with General Dynamics. Shirley was in our advertising department, and Kat worked in the HR department. I was everyone's friend and worked in payroll. New hires demanding to know what FICA was and how to get it back made my life the joy that it was.

I grabbed a bathing suit and rolled it up in a towel, put on a bra, tank top, panties, shorts, anklets, and matching tennie-runners and headed out. Oh, the things I do for a volleyball game. I was halfway to Marj's house when I realized I had grabbed a bathing suit without making sure it was the suit I had envisioned having a volleyball showdown in.

Marj's farm had a huge white farmhouse with a wide porch around three quarters of its frame, a big red barn with white trim and, on the back facing Route 39, a Chew Mail Pouch Tobacco billboard from the 1930s. Her house was filled with antique knickknacks and curios. Her kitchen was enormous; with a six-burner gas stove with double oven and an island you could land aircraft on in emergency situations. There was a small paddock with two horses that watched the antics of the party-goers with curiosity. Her yard was shaded by several enormous shade trees - an ash, a beech, and a huge shagbark hickory. The yard was bordered by a double row of cedar trees that gave the big yard a feeling of isolation.

The front lawn was covered with cars when I got there, and I was sure that my Four Runner felt out of place among the Mercedes and BMWs, but she'll be ok. I was barely out of my car when someone shouted, "PAM!" I turned and smiled and waved at someone I thought I knew. I headed to the back where there was a keg on ice, a huge bucket full of wine coolers on ice, a huge bucket full of soda cans on ice, and a huge bucket full of water bottles on ice. Marj believes in proper hydration. An enormous pig turned on a spit over a crackling fire with three men monitoring the feast, one of whom was Marj's husband Derryl. I think one of the others was a boss of mine. (I work with numbers, not people, so I don't recognize people easily.)

"PAM! You made it!" cried Marj, and she threw her arms around me from behind. "Come on, we're up in a few minutes." She gestured to the volleyball court. I looked over, and it was perfect. The net was a professional net, forty-seven feet wide, heavy duty nylon with solid, heavy duty posts. There was even a net tension crank on one of the uprights; you rarely see that in backyard games. The sand court was set up, and looked inviting. Instead of ribbons you can trip over, the boundaries were marked by little flags. Beach volleyball isn't my primary sport, but it's still volleyball. "Get your suit on! You can change in my room."

"Be right back!" I headed up to Marj's bedroom, which featured a huge, overstuffed king-size bed, stripped my clothes off and unrolled my towel and looked in shock at what I had brought. I had intended to bring a tankini, a bathing suit made of shorts and a matching shorty tank top/bra. Instead, I brought the bikini I wear when sunning on my apartment patio, the bikini I wear every weekend. I must have grabbed it out of habit. I put it on and looked in the mirror. There was a lot of me on display.

I tugged and tweaked my flesh into the bikini, and Marj appeared over my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I can't play in this; my boobs will bounce out of the top!"

"Yeah... and...?" said Marj with a wicked grin. She was putting on a bikini as well. "We're playing a couple of guys from Bendorf Electrical. The idea is to get their eyes off the ball."

"You mean we're prostituting ourselves just to win a game?" I asked.

"You have a problem with that?" asked Marj. Her grin was even wider.

I thought about it. This was my game. I was damn good at Indiana State, and I will not let some drunken frat-boy beat me at my game. "Let's go kick some ass!" We headed down to our destiny, pulling our hair into ponytails and wearing sunglasses with headbands. We added terrycloth sweatbands to make ourselves look more macho.

Marj and I kicked our sneakers off and stepped out onto the sand court, the sand feeling warm and inviting to my bare feet. I felt almost naked in my bikini, but as we volleyed back and forth I concentrated on the ball and not my body and forgot about the bikini. Bip, bap, bip, bap, bip, bap. The ball arched higher into the sky with every tap, our control getting better and better with practice. Leslie from marketing got up into the elevated referee's seat as our opponents volleyed for practice.

There's so many forms of volleyball, and I loved them all. My specialty is front-row killer in six-player indoor volleyball. I usually take the forward position in beach volleyball as well. I played three-player snow volleyball in Keystone, Colorado, and I even played sitting volleyball, which is a Paralympic sport (got my ass kicked!) but the toughest was four-player water volleyball. The swimming pool is a tough mistress, and she makes it difficult to move about the court.

There was a chirp from Leslie's whistle, and we stopped volleying. "Linesmen take your positions," and two fellows stepped up at opposite corners of the court to rule on out of bounds shots. "Score keeper ready?"

"Yes sir!" said Twana, a girl from accounting. She had a notepad and a pencil.

"We will be playing USA Volleyball rules, best of three sets. First two sets are played to twenty-one points, the third if needed is played to fifteen points. A team must win by two points. We will be playing with rally scoring, meaning every rally results in a point. Teams switch sides after every seven points in the first two sets, and after five points in the third if needed. Each team is allowed a maximum of three touches to return the ball over the net. Are there any questions on the rules?"

Rally scoring! I love it! In regular scoring, only the serving team can score a point. If the receiving team scores, they don't get a point, but they win the serve and have won the ability to score. You can play all day and not score any points.

"If there are no questions, let's shake hands and play volleyball."

I stepped up to the net and shook hands with Derryl. We've known each other for years, but his teammate was a pretty frat boy. Tall, well-built, dark hair, trimmed beard. He didn't wear a t-shirt like Derryl; he wore a check-collar polo shirt. A Burberry polo shirt. "Don Bendorf," he said as we shook hands.

"Pam Savona," then as I caught his eye roving over my tits I said, "Bendorf, like Bendorf Electrical?"

"Exactly," he said with an enigmatic smile.

The game was on. We volleyed for serve, but with rally scoring, winning the serve didn't matter as much as in indoor volleyball, though it was a point of pride. The ball had to cross the net at least three times for the volley to be 'on' and I lost count at about eight net crossings. Marj and I were feeling the guys out; we didn't want them to know there was a spiker on the team.

The guys finally won the serve, and Derryl sent a wounded duck that barely cleared the net, and I tapped it into the sand at his feet.

One - Nothing.

Marj served, and her serve was just like Derryl's, but hers didn't clear the net. "Sorry," she said.

"Don't sweat it, just learn from it," I said. I tossed the ball to Don, who was in position to serve, and we took our positions.

One up.

Don served, and it was a nice serve with authority. Marj popped it up in the air, a nice arching pass to me. I tapped it over the net, but Don was there to save, and Derryl put it over the net, and it dropped on the line for a point.

One - Two.

Don served again, and I was able to send it to Derryl, who missed.

Two up.

My serve. I didn't want to show off everything, but I wanted to get in the lead. I served and put a lot of spin on the ball. It sailed toward Don, but just past the net it curved to my right, towards Derryl, who was not ready for that. Don broke into a huge grin as he pointed at me. He must be onto me.

Three - two.

We went the entire first set without spiking the ball. Marj and I were close the entire time, but I didn't want to show off. The first set ended with the guys winning 19 - 21. Soaked in sweat, we gathered over at the refreshment counter to re-hydrate. I found an ice-cold Gatorade in the ice and chugged half of it down, which gave me a "Margarita Migrane." Then a voice came from behind me. "You have some skills."

I turned, and it was Don Bendorf. Clearly a daddy's boy. Someone who sat back and raked in the cash off what his father or Grandpa Bendorf created. He just had that frat-boy, poor-little-rich-boy look about him. Who else would play volleyball in a six hundred dollar Burberry polo shirt? "I've played a set or two," I said. I was hot, sweaty in a bikini I would never wear in public, talking to a handsome, maybe even hot, frat-boy.

"I've played too, but it's been a while. Where did you play?"

"Indiana State," I said proudly. "Where did you play?"

"It was in a service school," he said as we headed back to the fray.

"Which school was that?"

"West Point."

Suddenly the thought of using the term "frat boy" faded... for one thing, they don't have fraternities at West Point.

The next set started, and the volley went much quicker. One, two, three, then Marj stuffed it in her husband's face. I served four fast points in a row until the guys took over. Derryl blipped one right to me, and I couldn't let this wounded duck go. I leapt for all I was worth and slammed it into the sand at Don's feet, a killer spike. It was five to one, and Don just grinned at me.

"That's the Pam Savona I was promised!" he said with a grin.

After that, the knives were out. It was like Marj and Darryl were playing a separate game while Don and I were playing against each other, and we played rough. We didn't realize it, but we soon had a crowd around us cheering each point, each spike, each collision because, yes, Don and I were colliding into each other as we strained for the ball. Finally, the second set ended with Marj and me winning, 21-18.

We gathered at the drinks, soaked with sweat. I dug up another Gatorade as Don poured a bottle of water over his head. "You play pretty good for a rich-boy," I said.

"I wish I grew up as a rich boy," he said as he poured a little water on my head.

"You're playing volleyball in a six hundred dollar polo shirt!" I said.

"Really?" He tugged at the collar and looked at it. "Mom gave me this for luck when I started the company. It's been a pretty good good-luck charm." He shrugged. "I'm a helpless loner, sometimes I'm lucky to wear matching shoes."

I stared at this walking god. He's a helpless loner? If he's a helpless loner, then I'm a... That thought was interrupted by Leslie's whistle. "Break time is over players."

As we walked back toward the court, I had this feeling I was being set up. "Marj!"

"Yes dear."

"Marj, what's your maiden name?" I demanded.

"Bendorf," she said with that wicked grin of hers.

"This is a setup; you're setting me up with your kid brother?"

"I would never do such a thing!" she said firmly.

"You're lying."

"You're right. Hey, you gonna talk or are you gonna play?"

I stomped up toward the net where Don was grinning at me, a grin that looked suspiciously like Marj's grin. Before I could say something, he said, "Hey, Indiana. Let's make this interesting. If you win I'll give you anything you want."

"You can't afford me," I said.

"Try me."

"Dinner at Marc Forgione's American Cut Restaurant in New York and a Broadway musical. I want to walk through central park at night, I want to spend a day at a spa."

"Done," said Don. "And if I win... I get you."

I laughed. I still haven't given it everything I've got. "You're on Army boy."

"Let's do this," he said, and we shook hands to seal the deal. Then he stripped off his $600 polo shirt and tossed it aside. What was left was chiseled six-pack perfection.

Don't look, don't look, don't look, I told myself, but damn! If the Hallmark Channel started putting that in their faux-Christmas movies, I'd watch nothing else.

The boys won the volley because... abs. That son of a bitch! Two can play at that game. Darryl served a floater that was going to go over my head, so I whistled to get Don's attention. I pulled aside the right cup of my bikini, exposing my right boob for just a moment, then slammed the pass Marj sent me over the net and into his face.

The final set was hot and fast, and I remember some volleyball being played at the same time. Don and I were working hard to distract each other. He tugged his shorts down until his pubes were visible over the waistline. "I can't do that" I whispered to him. "I shaved this morning." That distracted him for two whole serves. For my part, I stopped resetting my bikini top after each point, and he was soon getting a healthy dose of Italian-American style under-boob.

After each point, we were at the net chatting. Why did I need to tell him my cat's name was Earl? He told me he had a 100-gallon fish tank with nothing but guppies and swordtails. That was so cool. We were constantly interrupted by someone calling, "Hey! You guys playing or what?" Jeez!

Finally, Marj and I were down 15-16; the guys were on Match Point. I served a curving missile that Don intercepted and slammed down at the biggest open patch of sand on the court - right in front of me. I dove, but I was too late. The ball scuffed up a ton of sand in my face to the cheers of the crowd.

Don helped me up, and we ended up walking off into Marj's meadow. "Well, you own me now, where do we start," I sighed. How did I get involved in such a silly bet? And when's the last time I walked hand-in-hand with someone?

"I think I'm going to clean you up first, you're all sandy and sweaty."

"Then what?" I asked.

"I don't know, but I'm sure something will come up."

Before I knew it, we were walking into Marj and Darryl's pond. The water was cool and inviting after such a vicious workout. He held me from behind, and I could feel his hard cock pressing against my ass, and for the first time in ages, I didn't feel an overwhelming desire to run away. We just bobbed in the pond and enjoyed each other's company. "I'm going to take your bikini top off now," he said.

"Why?"

"We have to wash off some of that sand."

He was right. I had been diving often to get some of his spikes, and my bikini was filled with sand. He eased my bikini top off, and I felt the cool water against my nipples for the first time ever. I've never been skinny-dipping before, and the sensation was as delightful as it was unexpected. I gasped as my nipples tingled and suddenly became rock hard. It's such a delicious effect, feeling the cool water running over my nipples, which haven't seen the light of day for decades.

I didn't even struggle as he eased my bikini bottoms down over my hips. He tossed my bikini and his shorts up on shore where my towel lay, then, gently; he was holding me in his arms like a baby. "My god you're beautiful," he whispered.

"I'm fat," I said.

"Hardly... You're real, not a hint of silicone or surgery anywhere. You're honest with me, you're straight forward and not afraid to tell me what you think."

"I've never been owned by anyone before, so I don't know how to behave," I said as he turned from side to side, the cool waters of the pond spilling over me. It was so refreshing, and so exciting. I finally gathered the courage to say it. "You're going to fuck me now, aren't you." In response, he lifted me up and kissed me. His tongue swirled with mine, making my brain swirl around in time with our kiss. When our kiss ended, I looked up into his shiny blue eyes. "I'll take that as a yes."

He carried me to shore and laid me down in the sweet fragrant grass. We kissed again as his hand squeezed my breast and pinched my nipple. Now I was aching for it. It's been so long since I had a man coming on to me, and here I was, naked in a field of sweet hay, and a beautiful specimen kneeling over me... suckling on by breasts, driving me out of my mind. By now, most guys would be done and looking for something on Uber Eats to order, but Don was taking his time, and driving me crazy. He was kneeling over me, sucking and nipping on my left nipple, then a deep passionate kiss that left me breathless, then launching a gnawing assault on my right nipple that had me squealing with passion.

How long would this go on? Becoming impatient for him to move on, I reached down between us and found his cock... I gasped as I surveyed it with my fingers. "Oh yes," I hissed. This guy was big... Not just long, but girthy. I tugged at him with both hands and pulled him up to where I could see what he wanted to put in me... and it was beautiful. Perfectly proportioned, with a big round head, a long thick shaft with a definite upcurve to tickle my G-spot. He could be a model for a dildo maker. A thought came to mind that made me giggle.

"What's so funny?"

"I had a mental picture of you standing naked on a stage with a dozen female art students around you and all they're doing is drawing your hard dick." Then I tugged harder. "I want..." He moved up, and I pulled the head of his cock to my mouth. Opening wide, I took him into my mouth. He tasted of pond water, sweat, and a man. His big firm hand curled in my hair and cradled my head as his hips moved and he began to fuck my mouth. His big cock filled my mouth and forced my tongue down as I tried to take more and more of him in me.

The sensation was so hot; strong, independent Pam Savona lay naked and spread-eagle in a field under a man I had known for less than two hours, and he was fucking my mouth. For once, I loved the feeling of a man's cock in my mouth. So big, so meaty, so warm. My jaw was stretched open wide, and I tried to take more and more of him. I reached down and cupped his dangling balls while my other hand caressed his ass and urged him on. He started panting as I suckled passionately on his cock. His salty, musky pre-cum was getting to me, and I ached for more.

He pulled away, and I moaned sadly. "God damn you nearly got me off," he said as he kissed me over and over. I've never experienced that. All my previous boyfriends refused to kiss me after I had their cock in my mouth. Don kissed me as if I had just agreed to marry him. He then kissed lower, down my suddenly ticklish neck, and I giggled like a schoolgirl as his tongue danced on my throat. Down between my breasts, lower, ever lower. I knew where he was headed, and I was panting with excitement. He still hadn't touched my pussy, and I was nearing a shrieking orgasm in anticipation of the feeling of his tongue on my clit.

I got it soon; I could feel his breath as his tongue danced up and down my puffy lips. Then he spread me open, exposing my tingling clit and weeping cleft. Don's tongue slithered and danced on my clit, and the invasion of my pussy made me gasp loudly. My hips rose and fell as two of Don's fingers moved in and out of me. He continued to lick and nurse my clit as his fingers probed deep into my twat. The feeling of excitement was building inside me until I was about to explode. Then he would pull out, leaving my weeping pussy empty, his mouth still suckling and nibbling at my clit. After a few moments, his fingers would resume, pushing inside me, his tongue dancing on my wet swollen clitoris, bringing me back to the verge of climax again before stopping.

He was playing me like a finely tuned instrument, and I took as much of this as I could. It was an exquisite torture; my breathing became rapid, and my body trembled with the continuous rise and fall of physical excitement. My pussy became so wet that I could feel my own juices running down the crack of my ass, the ache within my cunt building with each approach to climax until I could no longer bear it. I was soon babbling, "Please, no more, please. Oh god I can't take it anymore. Fuck me please... just fuck me!"

He rose up over me and ran the head of his meaty cudgel up and down my nether lips, picking up moisture and driving me crazy in anticipation. Then he began a long, delightful plunge into my depths. I cried out in wanton pleasure as Don's throbbing shaft eased into me; I felt my tissues stretch as the plunging started. My long legs were wrapped over his arms, my feet pointing up to the sky, moving with each thrust as his shoulders held them apart. Now he began sawing into me, plunging deeper and then pulling back, then deeper. The cock inside me plunged deeper and deeper until I could feel it against the tight barrier of my cervix.

Don fucked me with both eagerness and tenderness, our bodies colliding together in wet slaps. I was cumming constantly as his cock plunged into me over and over. We made love to each other with all the pent-up passion that years of loneliness can bring. I was coming nonstop as Don pounded me from one peak to the next. I think I fainted at one point, but I woke up and he was still fucking me soundly.

I reached between my legs and ran my fingers over his balls as he thrust madly into me, caressing the balls that were about to empty their hot sperm into my pussy. Again and again, I felt him lunge into me, planting his swollen cock head against my cervix. It hurt a little, but it set me off on another mind-shattering cum. I could picture the alignment of his slit with my cervix, and then I felt a massive pulse of his cock in my vagina and immediately a warm pressure on my cervix as his cum blasted out of his enormous cock and into my receptive body.

He shuddered and roared as he pumped his load into me, and I continued to fondle his enormous testicles. I felt him with my hand and in my pussy produce a rhythmic pulsing as he poured his seed into my waiting womb.

I groaned at the pleasure, at the knowledge that I had driven Don over the edge, given him the ultimate pleasure of planting his cock in my waiting womb. I knew my hungry pussy was sucking his semen straight through my cervix and into my womb. Finally, his pulsing slowed, and he collapsed onto me. "Damn that was good!" he sighed as he kissed my ear.

"The best," I whispered as we kissed again. His valiant cock, its job done at satisfying both of us, softened and slithered out of my overflowing pussy.

Oh God! I still felt the aftershocks. "I'm still cumming!" and my legs shuddered as tremors of ecstasy shook through me. He watched with fascination as I finally relaxed.

"Does that happen a lot?" Don asked.

"Only when it's really, really good," I sighed as my body continued to tingle. He lay on his back and pulled me close, and I rested my head on his shoulder. "What do you want to do now?" I asked.

"Doggy style," he said as he kissed my forehead.

"That goes without saying. Then what?"

"I was thinking we could cruise down to Manhattan and grab a steak somewhere with a few Michelin stars, then catch a play. Wanna go with?"

"Yeah, I'd like to tag along." God, I love volleyball.