Sentient Bisexual Tennis Balls Play Mixed Doubles In My Butt - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

trotting through a large scale tragedy is always strange. we know how to deal with the VISCERAL parts of it like running away and finding safety, but the daily life part of things can be a little difficult to figure out. this is been my way as i watch through my window and see LOS ANGELES WILDFIRES burning all around me. fortunately for the tingle household we are not too close although the air has been hard to breathe and there is always a danger of sizzling ash igniting a rooftop. other night trotted up onto the roof and could see all the flames. also a dang tree fell over on the house in the winds but there was no damage just a lot of work choppin it up

managed to get a lot of the final work done on LUCKY DAY, and i think maybe it is because that book is ABOUT dealing with a large scale tragedy, but other work has been difficult to get goin.

it is usually my intent to have TWO POSTS ON HERE A WEEK one is timeline tuesday and the other is a tingler whether that is a new tingler or a classic trot revisited. this week i am comin in pretty dang late but as the fires subside a bit (hopefully) i am finally gettin in here and trotting out a pound from the past

kinda wanted to bring you buckaroos something that has nothing to do with going on, so if you are wondering what the theme is here, the answer is THEME OF NOTHING TO DO WITH WILDFIRES

with that in mind please enjoy SENTIENT BISEXUAL TENNIS BALLS PLAY MIXED DOUBLES IN MY BUTT

Wendy loves tennis, but she’s disappointed the learn that her teacher and trainer has decided to quit. It’s not that Wendy isn’t any good, far from it! The teacher feels like there’s nothing left to help Wendy with, and if she wants to get any better she needs to invest in some new tennis balls.

Now Wendy is making a sporting good purchase that will change her life forever, quickly learning that these new tennis balls are sentient and sexy. There’s Brad, Greet and Martina, a trio of balls who all agree that the best way for Wendy can improve her game is to relax… and they know just the trick!

This erotic tale is 4,100 words of sizzling bisexual human on multiple sentient tennis ball action.

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SENTIENT BISEXUAL TENNIS BALLS PLAY MIXED DOUBLES IN MY BUTT

By Chuck Tingle

I’ve always been something of an athlete, enjoying every part of my workouts but particularly relishing the fun of competitive sport. There’s just something about pushing myself to the next level that I find particularly exhilarating.

         I played a lot of soccer when I was younger, and to be honest I think I got pretty good at it. I probably could’ve turned this passion into a career in the Women’s Soccer League, but at a certain point I found myself getting frustrated. My competitive drive made the team aspect of soccer fairly unappealing. I didn’t like the fact I could train ten times harder than anyone else on my squad, and at the end of the day it just didn’t matter because I was one little cog in the big slow machine.

         That’s when I discovered tennis.

         The sport of tennis is much different than anything else I’d played before, and for one distinct reason: it’s not a team sport. In this game, all the training that I do will directly affect the outcome of my own games. If I lose, I know exactly who to blame.

          Now that I’ve gotten older and worked my ass off, I feel like I’ve found myself with a truly commanding presence on the court. I can see all the angles and I know all the techniques. If I can imagine hitting the ball somewhere then I can almost always produce an equal result in real life, making the competition that I face more of a mental game than a physical one. To win at this level, you need to be more than just faster or stronger than the other players, you need to be smarter.

         With all this said, however, I still have a long way to go. I’ve started entering competitions and doing fairly well, but I’m certainly not placing the way that I’d like to. I want to win, and this drive within me isn’t slowing down. In fact, it’s speeding up.

         These days, it feels like I’m pushing up against a wall that’s refusing to give. I keep practicing with my trainer and teacher, but even she seems to be growing frustrated. That’s why I’m particularly nervous when I show up to the courts this afternoon. I’ve got the distinct impression that my trainer is going to deliver some bad news, but I’m not sure what it is.

         Instead of paying for some fancy tennis courts, we use the local park. I don’t think I could ever forgive myself if I started hanging around with those uptight county club types.

         As I round the corner, I see that my trainer is waiting for me. Typically, she’s already be out there slamming some tennis balls, but today she’s sitting on a bench nearby. Clearly, something is up.

         “Hi Amanda,” I offer, waving as I approach and then sitting down next to her. “What’s up?”

         My trainer lets out a long sigh. “I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta be honest with you,” she starts.

         “I wouldn’t ask for anything less,” I continue. “You know I’m here to be the best I can be.”

         “That’s the thing,” Amanda counters. “I shouldn’t be saying this, because I rely on these lessons for cash, but honestly you’ve… outgrown me.”

         Of all the things I’d been suspicious of, this was not one of them. My trainer’s revelation takes me completely by surprise. “What do you mean?” I question. “I love coming here and working with you. That’s how I got so good at tennis in the first place!”

         “I know, I know,” Amanda continues. “I love working with you, too. The problem is, I’ve got nothing left to teach. You’re way better than me now, so it seems a little strange for me to critique your form. If you wanna hit some balls around then I’m happy to play, but I just don’t feel right about acting like I’m your teacher anymore.”

         The sad gravity of this situation finally hits me. This is not an uncommon occurrence, as students outgrow their teachers all the time, but I suppose I’d imagined this would never happen between Amanda and me. She’s my friend, after all, and part of what I like so much about this game is the fact that we get to spend our days out here in the park having fun.

         Finally, I nod my head in acceptance. “I understand,” I reply.

         “It’s been really great working with you, Wendy,” my former trainer offers.

         “Thanks. You too,” I sigh, then open my arms and embrace my friend in a powerful hug.

         We let out all of our emotion in this moment, purging it from our systems so that when we pull back again we can collect ourselves accordingly.

         “So what now?” I question. “What am I gonna do to get better? Do I need to find a better trainer?”

         “Kinda,” Amanda replies. “Here’s my advice: you need better gear.”

         I can’t help but scoff at this. I’ve already invested plenty in the equipment I play with, so I can’t imagine this being a legitimate solution.

         “Trust me,” Amanda continues, brushing away my skeptism. “I think you’re ready. Go to the sports mart and ask for Pro Pounder 2000 High Impact Training Balls.”

         My friend hands me a piece of paper with these words scribbled across it in case I forget.

         I raise an eyebrow, reading the brand back to myself in silence. “And you think this will work?” I question.

         Amanda nods. “It’s the next step.”

         I thank my friend and then stand up, deciding to walk to the sporting goods store from here. It’s only a few blocks away, and most of that distance is on a nice trail that winds directly through the park.

         We part ways and soon enough I find myself alone once more, strolling along as the sun peeks down between the branches above. There are others enjoying the park, having picnics to my left and playing basketball to my right, but at this moment I’m overwhelmed with a profound sense of solitude and loneliness. I was really looking forward to training with my friend today.

         Of course, I’ve already spent this morning telling you about my resistance to team sports, but right now I kinda wish I wasn’t the only one going through this particular challenge.

         Eventually, I exit the park and make my way up the street a bit, arriving at the sporting goods store. I stroll in and head up to the counter.

         “Hi there,” offers the woman who works here. “How can I help you?”

         “I’m looking for some new tennis balls,” I reply, then pull out the folded piece of paper and read it word for word so that I’m sure to get it right. “I need the Pro Pounder 2000 High Impact Training Balls.”

         The woman behind the counter nods. “Of course! We’ve got those in back. Are you looking for the adult training balls or the regular training balls?”

         “What’s the difference,” I counter.

         “The adult ones will offer to fuck you in a wild bisexual orgy,” the woman replies, “the regular balls will-”

         I cut her off. “I’ll take the adult ones.”

         “Sounds good!” the woman replies, then turns around and heads off to retrieve them from the back.

         Moments later she returns carrying an enormous plastic tube. It’s similar to the three ball sets that I’ve seen before, only this container is enlarged about twenty or thirty times the typical size. The woman helping me can barely wrap her arms around it, moving slowly and wobbling from side to side until she finally leans it against the counter.

         “That’ll be five dollars and fifty cents,” the woman informs me.

         I hand over the cash and then wrap my arms around the container, having just as much trouble maneuvering this thing as she did. I half-carry, half-drag it out of the sporting good store, somehow managing to pull it down the street then finally getting fed up once I reach the edge of the park.

         Maybe this will be easier to carry once I open them.

         I drop the giant plastic container and let it simply topple over onto the ground, laying there in the grass as I walk around to the side with the cap. I grab ahold of the plastic edge and then pull as hard as I can, peeling it back until it eventually unseals would a loud, satisfying pop.

         I tumble back onto the ground as three tennis balls roll to a stop next to me.

         “Hey,” one of them offers as I sit up. “I’m Greet. Thanks for hiring us.”

         “I’m Brad,” another one of them chimes in.

         “And I’m Martina,” the last interjects.

         “It’s nice to meet you,” I reply. “I’m Wendy.”

         “Where’s the court?” Brad questions. “Let’s get to work.”

The enormous yellow tennis balls roll around a bit, searching the area and then finally returning to my side.

         “No court,” Martina observes.

         “I didn’t think I could drag the container all the way there,” I admit.

         The sentient tennis balls exchange knowing glances.

         “I bet we could do it as a team,” Greet offers. “Maybe that’s the first lesson of the day. Even though tennis is a solo activity, it’s okay to rely on others for your training and support.”

         “Not just tennis,” Brad continues. “That’s a good life lesson.”

         I consider their words, nodding along and trying to follow despite the fact they’re all talking at an unusually quick pace. “I understand,” I reply.

         “Then lets go!” Martina offers cheerfully. “Want a ride?”

         “Sure,” I reply.

         Suddenly, all three of the tennis balls have rolled around me, tapping my legs from behind and causing me to tumble over onto their round, fuzzy bodies. The next thing I know, I’m being carried along, my body somehow staying supported while the tennis balls rotate underneath. I can’t help but laugh, unable to control my outburst of excitement as I find myself carried along in this thrilling and unexpected manner.

         Not only is it fun, but this method of transportation is also quite efficient. The next thing I know, I glance up to see that we’re approaching the tennis court, tumbling through the gate and ending up in the middle of the green acrylic rectangle. It’s here that I jump back to my feet, smiling wide.

         “That was a blast!” I offer.

         “Let’s get started,” Martina interjects, all business. “I’d like to see where your current skill level is at. Play me and we’ll determine what needs improvement.”

         I pull out my racket and hand an extra one to Martina, who rolls over to the opposite side of the net. Once we’re both in position, I throw a small, non-sentient tennis ball into the air and hammer it over to Martina’s side with a devastatingly powerful serve.

         The second I make contact I know it’s going exactly where I want, but that doesn’t seem to matter. In the blink of an eye, Martina is already over there in perfect position, ready and waiting to slam the ball back to me. She does so like a laser beam, and I’m not at all prepared. I make a valent attempt to return her hit, but I miss it.

         “Again!” Martina calls out.

         Brad tosses me another non-living tennis ball and I make another serve to Martina, this time trying a slightly different approach. Again, I’m impressed with my own movement as I hammer the ball over onto Martina’s side, but somehow she’s even more ready than the last time.

         Martina immediately smacks the little yellow ball back toward me, angling it in such a way that it’s simply impossible to get.

         “Again!” Martina calls out.

         “Damn, you’re really good,” I stammer, my breath short as I struggle to get the words out. I can’t remember the last time I was challenged like this outside an official tournament. “Are you all this good?”

         Brad rolls up to hand me another ball. “We are,” he confirms.

         I take a moment to catch my breath, centering myself before I make my third serve. I try my best to remember the importance of strategic placement, to consider where Martina thinks I’m going to hit the ball and then doing the exact opposite.

         It doesn’t work.

         This time, Martina barely reacts, glancing over at Greet and Brad as she smacks my serve back and then strolls off the court. She doesn’t even have to wait to see my attempt at a return.

         I miss.

         “Let’s talk,” the sentient tennis ball offers.

         I stroll over to the three giant balls, wiping the sweat from my brow. My competitive nature has been awakened, but at this point I know there’s no reason to get frustrated. These sentient tennis balls are so far beyond my skill level that I have nothing left to do but listen and learn.

         We all meet on the edge of the court, forming a circle.

         “What did you notice from the sidelines?” Martina asks her round friends.

         “Not loose enough,” Greet replies. “She’s all wound up.”

         “Agreed,” chimes in Brad.

         Martina nods. “That’s what I thought,” the sentient sporting good replies, then turns her attention to me. “Listen, you’ve got some incredible physical skills, but right now your mental game is killing you. You’re way too stressed.”

         “I am?” I question. “I don’t feel stressed, I feel competitive.”

         “Whatever it is, you’re tense,” Martina continues. “It’s inhibiting your swing and slowing your reaction time.”

         “Okay,” I confirm with a nod. “What should I do about it?”

         “Well, there are two options,” the sentient tennis ball replies. “The slow option is we could send you on a vacation with plenty of spa days and massages and some time out on the beach.”

         “That sounds like heaven,” I reply. “What’s the other option?”

         “The fast way, where we have a hardcore bisexual orgy wi-”

         “The fast way,” I blurt. “I’ll take that one.”

         “I haven’t even finished explaining,” Martina begins, but I’m already taking off my clothes.

         The sentient tennis balls exchange glances, then shrug as they roll closer and surround my body.

         The next thing I know, all three of the gorgeous balls are massaging my form, running their hands up and down my frame as we explore one another excitedly. In an effort to cover as much vertical area as possible, my lovers roll up on top of one another, stacked like a snowman as they continue to tease me.

         Of course, the one at my waist still takes his time, running his hands along my hips but not going any farther as I continue to strip down. Up top, Martina is kissing me passionately on the lips, making out with me while I allow myself to melt.

         I’m realizing now just how correct this sentient collection of sporting goods is. My competitive nature is great in some regards, but it’s also keeping me in a perpetual state of tension. I’m constantly thinking about what I need to accomplish instead of what I already have, but right now it’s difficult to imagine how the present could get any better.

         “That feels so good,” I gush.

         “Fuck yeah,” offers Greet from down below as he caresses my legs and calves.

         At this point, Brad begins to move his hands closer and closer to my most sensitive areas, his fingers drifting closer and closer and then pulling back at the last second. He’s doing this on purpose, making me ache for more and taking his time with me.

         “Please,” I coo. “Do it.”

         Martina pulls back a bit. “Do what?” she questions.

         “Oh,” I stammer. “I was taking to Brad. All three of you standing on top of each other is very confusing.”

         “We can just float if you’d like,” Martina offers.

         The next thing I know, all of the tennis balls stop what they’re doing and hover up to eye level.

         “You can float!” I blurt. “Why did you wait until just now?”
         “We try not to hover very often,” Greet explains. “You can’t really have a floating tennis ball anywhere near the courts, that’s cheating, so we use this ability sparingly.”

         “If you’d like we can carry you around above the clouds, seeing the sights on a magical journey,” Brad continues, “or we can just get back to the bisexual org-”

         “Get back to the bisexual orgy,” I interject. “Let’s go!”

         I seize the moment, kissing Martina passionately on the lips and pushing her back so that, soon enough, we’ve arrived against the chain link fence that surrounds the court. The rest of the tennis balls follow closely behind and now I’m kissing all of them, moving from one to the next in a fit of passion.

         I’d been so focused on Martina that I’d barely noticed the guys, but now that I have a chance to kiss each of them I can sense the erotic tension building even more. This is going to be a good time.

         It’s not long before Brad gets back to work down below. Instead of continuing to tease me with his hands, the sentient orb floats low and runs his finger across my aching clit, slowly rubbing me as a soft moan escapes from between my lips. I close my eyes tight and lean my head back, reveling in this wonderful moment and allowing myself to give in completely.

         I begin to rock my hips against the movement of the tennis ball, the two of us falling into sync with one another as he keeps a steady pace. Eventually, Brad opens his mouth and dives in, lapping away at me with his tongue. He only gets a few licks in before Martina floats down into position, pushing the tennis ball away and picking up right where Brad left off.

         “No need to fight,” I laugh. “There’s plenty to go around.”

         Encouraged by my words, Greet and Brad hover back up to eye level, an enormous cock now protruding from each one of their bodies. They jut out toward me with impressive girth, two giant shafts at the ready.

         I take one in each hand and begin to pump my fingers across their length, beating off the tennis balls while Martina continues to eat me out down below. The sensation of being at the center of all this is incredible, and I don’t hesitate for a moment as I open my mouth and take Brad’s swollen cock within.

         I pump my face up and down across the living tennis ball’s shaft a few times before popping him out of my mouth and replacing him with Greet’s massive rod. I continue like this for a good while and then finally decide to take them both at the same time, holding their dicks together while I somehow manage to fit them both between my lips.

         The bisexual tennis balls clearly enjoy this, not just the sensation of my tongue massaging their shafts, but also the fact their dicks are pressed together so firmly. I watch as they begin to passionately make out with one another, lost in this erotic moment.

         Down below, Martina has moved on from the long drags of her tongue. She’s much more focused now, rapidly moving this wet muscle back and forth across my clit and causing tremors of passion to flood my body. I can feel the first hint of a powerful orgasm building up within me, these feelings blooming in the pit of my stomach and then working their way out across my arms and legs.

         I begin to moan loudly into the cocks that fill my mouth, pushing steadily closer to my impending orgasm. Martina slips two fingers within me and begins to add this new movement to the sensual polyrhythm of our bodies.

         Finally, I just can’t take it anymore, releasing the cocks from my mouth and throwing my head back in a state of unbridled passion. I scream wildly, my voice carrying out across the tennis courts as the muscles of my stomach clench tight and then release in a spastic fit. Meanwhile, Martina doesn’t let up for a second, keeping the pace as I cum harder than I ever have.

         When I finally finish I stumble a bit, eventually collapsing to the green acrylic in a panting heap.

         I should be utterly spent, but somehow this orgasm has done the exact opposite. Instead of tiring me out, the carnal explosion has kicked me into overdrive. I want more.

         I crawl across the tennis court a bit, popping my bare rump out at the sentient tennis balls seductively. “Fuck me!” I command.

         Immediately, the round living objects spring into action, each one of them knowing exactly how to position themselves. Martina rolls over to the front and starts by kissing me on the lips, then eventually guides my face lower and lower across her body. Soon enough, I’ve reached her pussy, which I don’t hesitate to dive in on. I begin to lap away at her, eating her out with just as much enthusiasm as she’d provided to me just moments earlier.

         As I work Martina orally, I can feel one of the tennis balls rolling into position under my body. I lift myself up so he can get fully underneath and properly align himself, then moments later I feel the sweet fullness of his enormous tennis ball cock sliding into my pussy. I let out a long, satisfied groan as Greet enters me, enjoying the way he holds firm as I adjust to the tennis ball’s incredible side.

         Eventually, Greet begins to pump in and out of my body, the two of us gradually falling into sync with one another as we steadily rock.

         “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I repeat over and over again, mumbling the words into Martina’s pussy as I continue to eat her out. My volume builds as I repeat these words over and over again, until eventually I’m screaming at the top of my lungs.

         Still, I want more. I pull away from Martina just long enough to glance back over my shoulder and make eye contact with Brad. “What are you waiting for?” I snarl, reaching around and giving my ass a firm slap. “Get in there.”

         The sentient tennis ball floats down into position behind me, aligning his cock with my puckered back door while Greet continues to thrust from the front. He takes a moment to position himself, then finally thrusts forward, impaling me across his length.

         I let out a frantic howl, utterly beside myself with pleasure as the tennis balls hammer away at me in a rowdy double penetration. When one of them pulls out, the other pushes in, back and forth like this as the two of them gradually pick up speed.

         The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, and I have to admit it takes me a moment to get used to. I’m so full that it feels like some kind of discomfort is warranted, but that sensation never comes. Instead, I find my body relaxing, falling into a state of blissed out flow.

         When I finally collect myself I return to eating out Martina, and soon enough all four of us begin to loudly moan. We’ve somehow all fallen into a perfectly timed set of movements, our bodies sliding against one another in a way that I would’ve never expected.

         We’re working as a team.

         “Oh my god!” I suddenly blurt. “I’m gonna cum again!”

         “Fuck yes!” Martina shrieks, preparing for an orgasm of her own.

         The tennis ball before me throws her head back as I carry her across the finish line, lost in a moment of erotic bliss. Meanwhile, Brad thrusts deep into my ass and holds, expelling a blast of his hot white spunk. I cum along with him, and soon enough all three of us are moaning in a chorus of pleasure.

         The tennis ball below me comes soon after, pulling his cock out of my pussy and then allowing Brad to float down and suck him off. The other sentient object only gets three pumps in before Greet is blowing his spunk in a forceful payload. Brad swallows hungrily, then drops to the ground with the rest of us is a state of utter exhaustion.

         Just then I notice a man and woman watching us from the edge of the tennis court. They both wear a look of deep concern across their faces.

         “We’re almost done!” I call out to them. “Sorry about that!”

         The couple walks away just shaking their heads.

         “That was amazing,” I gush to the tennis balls that surround me. “What a great first lesson.”

I still like to play solo, but strangely that’s not my favorite method of competing anymore. I’m placing pretty high in my tournaments now, thanks to the help and training of my new living object team, but the game of one on one tennis just isn’t where my heart is.

         Now, I’m receiving a first place trophy, but only half of it belongs to me.

         I glance over at Amanda, my former teacher and now teammate, who stands on the podium next to me. It’s not a ten person team, but playing doubles is much more than I was originally comfortable with.

         It looks like keeping an open mind was worth it.

         Amanda and me gaze out over the crowd of onlookers as they applaud esthetically. Brad, Greet and Martina are floating in the front row, smiling wide, and I feel more relaxed than I have in a very long time.