1. Going to the Ballgame


    Date: 10/8/2017, Categories: First Time, Mature, Taboo, Author: brianbigdogsmith, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    a pants pocket (“For autographs”) and asked me if I wanted one. I giggled like crazy when he wrote on my shaved pubic mound DALE PINEBOLD WAS HERE. “Don’t worry, it’ll wash off eventually,” he said. “Like, maybe I don’t want it to,” was my reply. He got called up the next day. I followed him on the Internet, checking stats to see how he was doing. He was doing well at the next level. I thought it was neat that he still wore the number 12. He’d told me that he had that number since Little League, but he’d give it up in a heartbeat if he made it to the Majors. We spoke often on the phone, my mom always inquisitive and asking lots of questions (“Was that the ballplayer again? You two got something going?”) My Uncle Eric was jealous (if only he knew the whole story!) It seemed as if the next game after each call he would hit a homer or two. I was his good luck charm! The day late in the season when he got called up to the big club, I first cried tears of joy before talking a friend into taking me to a tattoo parlor. Where his ‘autograph’ once was I had a big “12” tattooed there. “It’ll hurt like hell” the tattoo artist warned me before beginning. Wow, did it! When Dale called me we talked for a long time about the whole Major League experience and how he was fitting in with the older players. He struggled early on but was now finding his “groove” at the plate, and thus has been playing more. “I’m number 28 now,” he said. “Not as nice as my old number 12.” “It’s okay, Dale. ...
    Number 12 is alive and well in a nice warm spot.” “Huh?” “Let’s just say that you’ll be IN number 12 again next time we get together.” I emphasized the word ‘in’ but I wasn’t sure if he got it. “There will be a next time, won’t there be?” “Yes, there will be a next time. One way or the other, I will see you again. I promise.” “Yeah, I bet you say that to all the girls now that you’re a big, handsome Major League ballplayer in the big city.” “Georgie, whatever I say to girls doesn’t matter since you’re the only woman in the Credence Dale Pinebold ballgame.” I get wet every time he says I’m a woman like that. The Big League club fell short of a wild-card slot by one game, so no postseason for Dale. He took a coach’s advice and headed off to someplace in South America to play winter ball. I loved him with all my heart, but I was very realistic and had no expectations that he would remember me now that he made it. That didn’t change how I felt about him in the least. I had his posters on my bedroom wall, his old number tattooed on my pubis, and many masturbatory orgasms to remember him by. I hadn’t heard from him through the winter, so I was surprised when he called me from spring training in Florida. “How’s my favorite flame thrower?” he said with a chuckle. I was so damn happy to hear from him I could hardly breathe. He wanted to know if I had a boyfriend, and I told him that he was the only one for me. “That’s sweet to hear, Georgie girl, since I’ve been wondering how you would ...
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