1. Going to the Ballgame


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

    the mascot’s picture on it, and a team logo ballcap. I had tied my hair into a ponytail and slid it over and through the size adjustment snappy-thing at the back of the cap. When Dale came out of the clubhouse, he said, “Georgie, you look mighty fine. Those legs of yours are something to behold.” I walked up close and said, “You can ‘behold’ them later.” I was thrilled to be this close to him in his uniform. He had two gloves with him and he tossed me one. “That’s my new one I’m breakin’ in, so don’t hurt it,” he said and chuckled. “Now we’ll see whether or not you throw like a girl.” He led me out onto the field where some of his teammates were having batting practice. He picked up a loose ball and we went over to the side by the dugout. He tossed me one, kind of slow, that I caught easily even though the glove was a bit stiff. Before I threw it back, I hollered “Is that all you got? I can throw harder than that.” And I did. I actually surprised him. He was a little slow in his reaction to the speed of my throw, and it was noticeable by the way he caught the ball. A couple of the other ballplayers noticed too. One guy yelled, “What’s the matter Dale? Can’t handle the girl?” Dale muttered, “I can handle her, all right,” as he returned the throw, harder this time. My hand stung a little but I didn’t let on. We played catch for a while, settling into an easy rhythm. Teammates of Dale’s began hanging around me. One guy told me I had nice “meaty” legs and wanted to know if I’d ...
    “wrap them around” him sometime. Another said that if I was too much for Dale, he’d take over. He didn’t mean playing catch. As game time drew closer Dale arranged for me to sit in a box seat near the home dugout. Before he went back inside, he leaned in close and said to me, “You’re right, you don’t do anything like a girl, spitfire woman.” I felt so damned good. All the hunky baseball players wanted to get into my pants; I saw it on their faces. And now Dale called me a woman. Poor Dale went 0-4, striking out twice in the loss. Maybe his mind was elsewhere. I stayed in my seat after the game. No one rousted me; I guessed that all the security people knew I was waiting for Dale. Eventually he walked out of the dugout, his hair still wet from the shower. He came to me and lifted me over the short wall and onto the field. He kissed me like before, with his tongue deep. I was breathless. I was wet. I had this mental image of all the players in a communal shower and I got wetter. I know, I’m beyond help. “I wasn’t sure you’d stick around after the stinker I just had,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I? Besides, I’m the one that can make you forget the whole game,” I said with a smile, hoping it was my best flirty one. “You certainly can, sweetheart. You certainly can.” We drove for miles to a different bar, but the folks there knew him too. He got some beers “on the house” so that meant I could have some too. Like the other place, nobody seemed to care about my age. Dale told me how tired ...
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