The greatest moment of my professional career caused the end of my marriage. When sporting colleagues win they often hug each other, even kiss. If only my doubles partner hadn't decided to French kiss me. Live on TV in front of maybe 100 million viewers! And as for slipping her hand into my knickers....
I'm a professional badminton player, and I've represented Britain for, well, more years than I care to remember, UK champion several times and a medallist at several major championships. I specialise in doubles, and when injury forced my old partner to retire I thought I'd probably join her on the sidelines. Well, I was nearly 30 at the time, and my husband and I had been talking for a while about starting a family.
Then the British team coach introduced me to Jill. She was nearly 10 years younger than me, and had enjoyed a brilliant junior career. Everyone was tipping her to get to the very top in the sport. The coach, however, thought she had more promise in doubles, and he was sure that her playing style would complement mine perfectly. I wasn't so sure. Apart from the age difference, I'm a cautious Yorkshire lass, quite reserved really (some would say dour), whereas Jill was a bouncy, bubbly Essex girl, full of fun and mischief.
I agreed to give it a go though. After a couple of weeks practising together we found we were hitting it off well, and I broke the news to Steve, my husband, that my career wasn't quite over after all. He wasn't best pleased, but he'd always supported me. We'd been married for over 10 years, sweethearts at the age of 13 who never looked at anyone else. As I became more successful, touring the world to play my sport, we saw less of each other; but it never weakened our commitment, and whenever the subject of kids came up it was Steve who would smile and say "You go and win us a few gold medals first, our Jackie".
Jill was so committed to our partnership that she relocated her home to be near us, so we could train together every day. The results were, to say the least, spectacular. We started winning every match we played, and the press loved it. We started attracting headlines like 'Jackie and Jill go up the hill – to victory', and with our contrasting looks they loved us too – a short, chunky (though, if I say it myself, shapely) brunette, and a tall willowy blonde with the looks of a catwalk model. After only a few months together we were being talked about as potential world champions. I'd never been more excited.
Jill told me very early on about her sexuality. One day she admitted she had nagged the coach into putting us together as a doubles partnership. When I asked her why, she said "Well, you're the reason I play badminton – the first time I saw you on TV I fancied you something rotten, and I've wanted to get into your knickers ever since."
I stared open-mouthed at her. She giggled, gave me a wink, and sashayed off to have a shower, wiggling her little pink bum at me. If she expected me to be shocked at her admitting to being gay she was disappointed – you see plenty of that in our sport, and some of my best friends are dykes. As for her 'confession' of lust for me, well, I thought, she was obviously kidding, no-one just comes out with it like that. In fact, as time rolled on it became a bit of a joke between us. She would claim that research proved that people who are lovers work better together. We'd watch videos of our matches and she'd press her lips to my ear and whisper what a gorgeous arse I had; or after a big win she'd say "You know I'm going to have you one day, so I don't know why you don't just let me get on with it."
Not that it bothered me in the least. Steve and I had a great marriage, our sex life was fantastic, and Jill's sense of humour kept the sparkle in our partnership. Not that she went short of 'a bit of the other' as we say in Yorkshire. She began to get a reputation in the sport as a goer, and more than once the team management had to cover up potentially embarrassing incidents. Like the night she woke up the entire Indonesian badminton team having it away with two of their 18 year-old twin sisters – at the same time!
But that's another story. Basically, by the time the world champs came around we were quite renowned. We'd even been interviewed on TV a few times, which in Britain, where most people regard badminton as one step up from tiddlywinks, is major recognition. In the tournament we sailed through our matches, and lined up for the semi-finals confident of victory. We were seeded to play the Chinese champions, Jiang Lin and Lin Jiang (I kid you not!). I'd played them three times with my old partner and never beaten them. We started the match well, but in the end we were well beaten. In the changing room I had a real tantrum, hurling my racquet at the wall and screamed "Shit! Fuck! Fucking pair of bitches! I'd do anything to beat them, just once. Anything!"
Jill gave me a curious look. She said softly, "Would you? Really? Okay, how about the first time we beat them, you sleep with me?"
I was in no mood for her quirky sense of humour, and told her to fuck off. Later, though, I felt guilty about it. In the hotel bar I bought her a drink that evening and, with a grin, I told her, "All right, the first time we beat them I'll spend a whole night in your bed, and you can do whatever you like with me."
This time it was her turn to stare at me open-mouthed! Of course, I didn't mean it for a moment, any more than I thought she would want it. After all, with her looks she could have her pick of beautiful women, why on earth would she want a beaten-up old battle axe like me?
We continued to be successful, but we kept coming up against JL and LJ. The scores were getting closer but we could never quite beat them. In those matches Jill fought like a tiger and played some of the best badminton I'd ever seen. After one particularly close defeat, in front of a home crowd, I sat stark naked in the changing room feeling sorry for myself. I jumped slightly as a pair of warm hands settled on my shoulders. Jill gently massaged my neck, sending little shockwaves through me. She leaned down to my ear, her long blonde hair tickling my arms, and whispered, "Pity – I really thought I was finally going to have you tonight."
I'm not saying the physical contact with Jill had any effect on me, but when I got home that night I shagged Steve senseless until the early hours of the morning, when he begged me for mercy!
A few months later we were again in the semi-final of the world championships, and again, as fate would have it, we'd been drawn against the dreaded Chinese. We'd been having a brilliant season, and I was determined that this was it – they were NOT going to get the better of me yet again. Jill and I had a practise session booked for the morning before the match. As I sat on a bench in the changing room in sweltering tropical heat, legs apart in my usual unladylike fashion, Jill walked towards me, glanced up my skirt and shook her head, tutting. "Tch, tch, tch, you can't possibly go out like that, your bikini line looks like the African jungle."
It was true there was a fair amount of thick black hair growing on the tops of my thighs, but I protested it didn't matter as nobody would see it and, anyway, I was too keyed up for the practise to do anything about it. Jill said brightly, "It's okay, I'll take care of it".
Before I could stop her she rushed over to her kit bag and pulled out a small safety razor and a can of shaving foam. As she advanced on me I tried again. "Jill, don't be daft, you can't shave me. This is an open changing room, what will it look like if somebody comes in? Now pack it in and let's get out on court."
But she was already kneeling in front of me and squeezing foam onto her fingers. "Don't be such a big baby Jacks. If anyone comes in it'll look like exactly what it is, me helping a mate out with an embarrassing problem. Christ, it's not as if I'm asking you to take your pants off for me. Not yet, anyway."
With that she began massaging the cool foam into my thighs. In the sweltering heat it felt quite refreshing and, sighing, I gave up the fight and sat back. I didn't really register at the time that Jill spent much longer massaging my inner thighs than was entirely necessary and, naïve little me, I thought it was just clumsiness when her fingertips brushed along the gusset of my briefs a couple of times, pressing them against my pussy. When I jerked once in reaction she actually had the cheek to tell me to sit still so she didn't cut me!
As she shaved she 'innocently' rested her spare hand on my pubic mound, pressing in rhythm with the strokes of the razor. When she finished I was sweating a lot more than before she started, and for some reason I had trouble concentrating on the practice! The moment I got back to our hotel room I frigged myself on the toilet, 'phoned Steve and had a very dirty conversation with him, then had a bath and frigged myself again.
If our practice for the big match had been poor, our performance when it mattered was quite brilliant. The first two sets were close, but in the deciding set we trounced the Chinese girls. They hardly scored a point, and Jill played some truly amazing shots that had the entire audience on their feet applauding. As I prepared to serve for the match Jill trotted over to me, I assumed to discuss how I should play the shot. Instead she leaned towards me and whispered "win this point and your mine!"
The shuttle cock sailed over the net and landed between the two Chinese women. They slumped to the court, utterly defeated, as Jill and I leapt six feet in the air and hugged each other in joy.
We both decided that, rather than shower at the stadium then get covered in sweat again returning to the hotel, we'd just go straight back and clean up there. In the taxi Jill never mentioned our silly little joke again, and I'd completely forgotten about it when, half an hour and two glasses of champagne later, I stepped into the lovely cooling shower. Letting the soothing water wash over me, I froze as I suddenly felt two soft, warm hands soaping my back. Soft hair tickled my back as Jill leant forward and whispered "I want you to feel totally refreshed – lover!"
I thought to tell her where to go, but as well as soaping my back she was massaging my aching muscles, and the combination of the water and her hands felt so wonderful I just let it happen. Anyway, Jill only stayed in the shower with me a few minutes, and she didn't do anything sexual. Well, she did give my bum a good fondle, but that was aching too!
When I came out of the shower Jill was lying naked on her bed, watching TV. She went into the bathroom to take her turn and, feeling guilty at not offering her a massage, I lay on my bed, wrapped only in a short bath towel, and promptly fell asleep. I woke sometime later to feel Jill's hands stroking life back into one of my aching calves. As I raised my head her hands slipped upwards to my thigh, and she began gently rubbing that. Still naked, she gave me an unusually shy smile, and murmured softly, "It's time darling. You have now idea how much I've wanted this."
Suddenly nervous, I decided to play dumb, and agreed it had been great to beat the Chinese. Jill chuckled and eased her hands still higher on my thigh, under the hem of the towel. She continued "You know what I mean my love. I know you're a bit shy, a bit unsure, but don't worry, I'll take care of everything. You're about to have the most sensual night of your life."
I was really worried now. Leaning up on my elbows, I said, "Oh come on Jill, you don't mean that silly little joke of ours do you? We both know neither of us meant it. We're good mates, but that's all we are. You're gay, I'm straight, and nothing's going to change that..."
My mouth went dry as, slowly, confidently, Jill unknotted my towel and pushed it back, revealing the naked body she had seen a thousand times before. My mind was screaming at me to stop her, but my body wouldn't react. I decided I needed to be more firm.
"Jill, pack it in now. I'm a happily – very happily – married woman, and you have no right to intrude on that. This has gone far enough. You're acting like a silly little girl and I'm not going to tell you again. Stop it right now!"
Her hands stopped moving, barely an inch from my throbbing pussy, and I saw her shoulders heave as she let out a sob, tears streaming down her face and her lips quivering in misery. She really did look like a little girl – one who'd just been told the pie she's eaten contained her favourite pony!
Now feeling a combination of embarrassment, shame and anger, I tried to make my voice sound sympathetic as I said "Jill, sweetheart, don't cry, please. Look, I love you, you know that, but like a kid sis....ooooohhhhh fuuuucccckkkkk!"
One of Jill's hands had left my leg and she'd trailed her fingertips lightly across my belly, just below my navel. That is my G-spot of G-spots. A total stranger could have walked up to me in the street and touched me there, and the chances are I'd have ripped his pants off and fucked him where he stood. As it was, this was an incredibly beautiful naked young girl, sitting on my bed with one hand cupping my pussy as the other repeated the trick on my belly. In a reflex action I jack-knifed upright on the bed, grabbed her face in my hands, pulled it roughly towards mine and thrust my tongue deep into her mouth! When Jill had recovered from her shock she scooted down the bed, lifted my legs onto her shoulders, and pressed her face into my cunny, licking like a kid with her favourite ice cream. I howled like a wolf as I experienced wave after wave of crashing orgasms!
After that I was like putty in Jill's hands. I really did keep my promise, and let her do anything and everything she wanted with me. About dawn she persuaded me to go down on her. I'd seen her pubes almost every day for two years, but I'd never seen her actual pussy, or any other woman's. It was quite beautiful, like a smile, slick with her love juice and a bit red from earlier contact with my exploring fingers. At the top was the little button of her clit. I touched my tongue to it experimentally and Jill squeaked. I rubbed my nose along her cunt lips and she groaned. I drove two fingers into her cunt and nibbled on her clit and she squealed, bucking so hard she nearly threw me off. There was no stopping me then and I buried myself deep in her sweet-tasting love hole. We made so much noise that the next morning at breakfast we got funny looks from all the women members of the British team, and either revolted stares or knowing winks from the men. I couldn't have cared less. I sat wreathed in a little pink cloud of post-coital ecstasy as Jill held my hand and tickled my thighs under the table. And we won the world championship final that evening!
Later I asked Jill how she knew about the belly thing. She replied tenderly, "I'm in love with you, and when you love a person you take time to find out about them. You can't share hotel rooms for two years with someone who loves sex, misses her husband and has to relieve herself, without noticing a few things."
After that we were at it like rabbits. In hotel rooms (though never before a big match), in showers, in public parks – Jill loves a sense of danger. Probably the riskiest time was after we won our second world title. We were touring my home town on an open-top bus, crowds cheering us. Jill stood behind me and nobody could see her hand reaching into my slacks, her long middle finger massaging my burning clit.
Jill had been right about our partnership on court improving too - we became unbeatable. We thrashed the Chinese girls every time we met them, and won a hatful of gold medals. It made life difficult at home though. I still loved Steve, but the truth was that sex with him had become like watching an old silent movie in sepia, whereas with Jill it was like a 3-D blockbuster in glorious Technicolor. Because I felt guilty about that I tried to put more into the sex with Steve, and we both started feeling pressured and snapping at each other...The trouble was, I realised I had fallen deeply and hopelessly in love with my sweet Jill, far more than I had ever loved another living soul.
Which brings us to the night of the Olympic final of the badminton ladies doubles, London, 2012. We had stormed into the final, and once there we beat the Korean champions in straight sets. As we threw our rackets into the air in victory, we flung our arms tightly round each other – and that's when it happened. Jill smacked her mouth onto mine and pressed her tongue between my lips. I was too startled to stop her, and as her tongue swirled circles around mine I felt her hand slip into my pants and she thrust her middle finger straight up my bum! Possibly the first time anyone ever had an instant orgasm on a badminton court; with half the world watching; including my beloved husband, who was sitting court-side, waiting to be interviewed on TV with his triumphant wife about how we were finally going to start our family.
Amazingly, Jill and I were allowed to keep our gold medals, and we were on the front page of almost every newspaper on the planet the next day. Naturally Steve and I are divorced now, and Jill and I are living very happily together in the luxury apartment we paid for with part of the ridiculously large fee a certain girlie magazine gave us to pose naked together ('The Olympic BAD-minton babes'!). We're also considering several offers from Internet websites that want us to do a lot more than just take our clothes off in front of the cameras!