Short skirt woman
She crushed it on the court today- hair damp, breath sharp, her tennis skirt swaying with every stride. Miss Dizzum didn’t just win the match; she owned the whole club. Spectators with their eyes bugging out had watched her perfect backhand in awe, but no one saw what came next. That sly little smirk she gave before disappearing into the changing rooms said it all.
Locker room Lady
Inside the fancy tennis club’s locker room, the visor came off, and the real Miss Dizzum came out. Her cheeks were still flushed, sweat rolling down her collarbone as she peeled the tight tank top over her head. She stretched, barefoot now, legs sore, eyes burning with mischief. The polite tennis girl was gone, and what replaced her was something far more naughty.
Olympics of Sex
She tossed her racket aside, stepped into the bedroom, and didn’t bother closing the blinds or the door. Just like when she grand slams it on the tennis court in front of a crowd, she *liked* the idea of being seen. That’s what drove her wild. On the court she played by the rules, in private, she *made* them. And tonight? She had plans that didn’t require a net or a scoreboard… just a camera, and someone worth breaking the rules for.
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