"What, you want to hit against me?" she asked, surprised.
"Damn right." I took off the ol’ Tools of Ignorance, and grabbed a stick. "OK, Woodard, let’s see what you got."
First pitch. Fastball. Never saw it. Strike one.
Second pitch. She threw me the slider, which didn’t surprise me, and I got my bat on it-but not enough. Fouled it off. Strike two.
I expected the change next. She must have known that that’s what I’d expect-because that’s not what I got. I got the curveball instead. I waved at it feebly. Strike three.
"I told you I could strike you out on three straight pitches!" she yelled-but there was no triumph in it. She should’ve been gloating. She wasn’t. I know why-because she thought it made me not want her. Little did she know that I was restraining myself from tackling her right there. Anyhow, I just waved at her to give me another one.
It was the cross-seamer. BLAM! Double to the gap in right.
"And I told you I’d hit a double in the gap off you." That time she did grin. Genuinely. And wound up again.
We went at it for a while. I won a few, she won a few. She won a few more, but I held my own. And, every time she got me, I grinned at her. Just to let her know there was no hard feelings.
Hard feelings? I felt like it was foreplay. She really was at her most beautiful and enticing when she was bearing down on me with a fastball.
Afterwards, I went to sit down, and she followed. "Thanks," I told her. "You are now not only the best pitcher I’ve ever caught; you’re the best pitcher I’ve ever hit against."
"Thanks," she beamed. "And you are what my old manager used to call one MTO."
"MTO?" I asked.
"Motherfucking Tough Out." I laughed. "It was his highest praise for a batter. ‘Look out for this guy, Woodard, he’s one motherfucking tough out.’ It took him six weeks before he could say that to me, his girl pitcher, without blushing."
"I can imagine," I laughed.
Tryouts ended, and they announced the team. Of course she made it. Was there ever any doubt?
So, I was her catcher. What else was there? It was time to find out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN LILYI made it! I made it, I made it, I made it!
Yeah, for all my tough talk and bluster, I thought they’d find a way to deny me a place on the team. But I MADE IT!!!
I needed to let it out. I sat there on the dugout bench, as everyone else left, just drinking it all in. It was getting dark. I wanted to be alone.
But I didn’t think I’d get that chance, because Mike wasn’t going anywhere. Ah, well, you know-that was all right. I thought he’d understand.
When we were the only two left in the whole place, I ran out of the dugout and started running across the field yelling, "I MADE IT! I MADE IT!" And, I was right, Mike didn’t mind. He was standing at second base watching me-and laughing-as I romped around the outfield.
When I finally stopped, he walked up to me and said, "You doubted you would?"
"You never know. They didn’t want a girl on the team, you know that-so, you never know."
" I knew," he told me.
"You’re so sweet. And, hey, there is no way I would’ve made it without you. Not only are you a great catcher, you let me work out with you on Monday, and you even came up with this contraption." I pointed at the bandage. "Thank you so much."
"You’re welcome."
"And I think I need to take this contraption off." I started to turn away from him, and grab at the ace bandage.
"Do you need some help?"
"No, thank you." That’s what I said. What I thought was, hell no! Have you "help" me and work me all up again and then leave? No fucking way.
But then he came around and was in front of me again. And he said, "Please. Lily, let me help."
Oh, man, if only he knew what he was asking.
Oh, shit. What if he did know? What if he knew? What if he figured it out? Did I have the guts to take a chance? I looked at his face, and in his eyes I saw-that something again.
So, I said, "OK."
He took a step towards me, and unraveled the ace bandage. Then he went for the bra scraps taped to my nipples. I didn’t hold a thing in. I let it happen. I closed my eyes, and gave in to the need to breathe heavy. Then, they were off. They fluttered to the ground in the outfield where we were standing. I held my breath for a half-second. And then I felt his hands, right back on me.
Thank goodness.
His hands were all over me. And even when not being clinical, they were gentle and tender. I moaned a little. Then I felt one of his hands leaving my boob-and wandering down, right towards my pussy. Oh God. Please please please, I was so wet. And then I felt him gently run his fingers up and down my pussy.
I couldn’t stand anymore. I sunk down, kneeling on the outfield grass, pulling him down with me. We kneeled in front of each other there, as he had one hand on my boob and the other one on my pussy. I spread my legs a bit and his finger slipped right in. Heaven. It was heaven.
I opened my eyes, and looked into his. Then I kissed him. I devoured his mouth, every single inch of it, and danced my tongue with his. With my tongue in his mouth and his hand in my pussy, I came. Nice and hard.
I broke the kiss-I was afraid I’d bite his tongue off-and, afterwards, I opened my eyes. He was grinning at me. I gave him one hell of a smile back.
"This stops whenever you say it does," he whispered. I just giggled. "Lily, what do you want?" he asked.
"I want this," I said, grabbing his dick and pulling it towards me, "and I want it in here."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Absolutely. As sure as sure gets."
"Are you protected?"
"Yes," I told him.
"Then lie back." I did so, and then there he was, hovering over me. "God, you’re so beautiful," he said.
Beautiful. I was filthy! Jesus, I realized I still had eyeblack on!
And he wanted me.
Miracle of miracles.
Then, there he was, at my entrance. He slid right in. I was really wet.
He built up a rhythm. It was fantastic. He slid in and out of me, and I just gazed up at him, enjoying what my body was doing. Then, I got a little flash. I giggled.
"Did I tickle something?" he asked, bemused.
"No," I said, with a half gasp. "Just dawned on me. All my years of baseball, I’ve never made love in the outfield before."
"Me neither," he laughed.
He was going nice and slow, making sure he got me all worked up. Well, I was worked up. So I told him. "Mikey, harder, OK?" He obliged. Oh GOD.
That’s when I started howling. I’m not always loud. I have to be well-fucked to let loose. Well, I found myself getting really loud. Oh, man, this was the fuck of my life. At one point, I opened my eyes, and found his were open. And I found myself drowning in his. You know, those liquid pools of iridescent sapphire.
That’s when I came. With an earth-shattering scream. He went right with me.
Afterwards, he rolled off me-but pulled me towards him, cuddling me, as we collapsed in a pool of sweat and cum.
This was better than making the team. I couldn’t believe that thought went through my head, but it was.
Then I heard him chuckle. "You know," he said, "It’s a good thing I don’t play right field. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I’d be having flashbacks.’
I laughed at that, and looked at him. "So," I said with a sly little smile, "you finally figured out I was a girl, huh?"
He laughed. "I knew that all along. I just didn’t know what to do about it." He told me about the conversation with his mother last night. "I wanted you in the worst way," he said afterwards. "I just wasn’t getting the signals from you. Yeah, you were sending them, but I wasn’t getting them. And I still had to be your catcher."
"Your mother’s right. You are a ninny." He gave me a grimace. "Sometimes. Yesterday. Today, you were most definitely not a ninny." I sighed. "How do you think I feel? Mike, you know what I told you. Ballplayers don’t go for me. And you! I struck you out! After I did that, I figured it was all over."