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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Copyright (c) 1999 by Poison Ivan. Please leave my name
and contact information on this story, but do anything
else you want with it. Based on the famous poem by
Ernest L. Thayer.
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Casey at the Bat
By Poison Ivan (poisoniv1@hotmail.com)
***
Something a little silly in honor of the start off
baseball season. If you're not a big baseball fan, you
might not get this one. (MF, humor)
***
Casey spat into the grass in front of the dugout. Ten
thousand patrons of the game mumbled quietly from the
stands as Cooney took a few practice swings outside the
batter's box. Barrows stood loosely in the on-deck
circle, waving a leaded bat. Casey studied the
scoreboard.
Visitors 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 2 4
Mudville 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 - 2
The string of Mudville goose eggs ran from the third
inning all the way to the eighth, like a taunt. The
young punk pitcher kicked at the dirt in front of the
rubber. The boy's gray uniform was stained with sweat.
He had pitched a good game up to that point, but Casey
had noticed a loss of velocity on the boy's fastball.
He was definitely hitable.
Casey scanned the crowd behind the visitor's dugout.
They looked nervous and unsure. If only Casey could get
to the plate, perhaps he could get this crowd back into
the game. He noticed an attractive blonde sitting right
next to the opposing dugout. She seemed to be staring
right at him.
Casey stepped over to the bat rack as Cooney settled in
at the plate. Cooney took a first pitch strike, then
fouled off an outside curve. Casey grabbed his bat and
squeezed the handle in his strong hands. Cooney lunged
at the next pitch, sending an impotent ground ball
towards second base. Off balance from the awkward
swing, Cooney stumbled out of the box and almost fell
on his face. He was thrown out by forty feet.
Absolutely pathetic.
Casey got a good hold of his bat in both hands. His
spikes clicked on the concrete floor as he walked to
the back of the dugout. He looked at the lineup card.
1. Barrows SS
2. Flynn LF
3. Blake 3B
4. Casey 1B
And only two outs to go. Flynn and Blake were offensive
liabilities, both put in for defense in the top of the
ninth. And that fucker Blake booted the easy groundball
that let two runs score. Casey glared at the manager,
who stared glassy-eyed out onto the field, chewing
tobacco like an old goat. The son-of-a-bitch didn't
know what the fuck he was doing. Blake? Why'd he put
Blake in? And Blake was hunched over like he was about
to puke on his shoes.
The sound of bat thwacking ball spun him around, only
to see the shortstop gobbling up an easy two-hopper.
Barrows gave it his all, sprinting full tilt. He was
fast, but not that fast - he was out by a step.
Two down.
Casey noticed the blonde again, and this time he was
sure of it: she was looking right at him. Her lips were
red and her eyes were bright. A sprinkling of
spectators headed for the exits, but there was still a
look of possibility in the blonde's eyes. He thought he
saw her mouth a single word: "Casey."
But there were two outs and Flynn and Blake to get
through. The dugout was deathly quiet.
Casey couldn't bare to watch while Flynn took his place
in the box. Flynn was a joke at the plate, and often
couldn't hit a batting practice fastball out of the
infield. Instead, Casey watched the blonde.
She looked back at him and they smiled at each other.
She was better looking than most groupies, that was for
sure. She licked her lips in a provocative way, and
Casey felt a twinge of something in his pants.
There was a sweet "tock!" sound, and Casey looked back
towards the field. The center fielder was running
towards left, and when the ball hit the turf, a roar
rose from the crowd. Casey crowded towards the front of
the dugout with the rest of the team. The center
fielder threw the ball in to second. Flynn stood safely
on first base, an idiotic grin on his face.
Casey's heart accelerated as he scrambled up the steps
into the on-deck circle. Blake walked slowly towards
the plate while the umpire and catcher watched. But no
one was watching Blake. Every eye in the house was on
Casey. Casey dropped the lead donut over the end of his
bat. He gave it a slow, easy swing.
Blake fouled off three straight pitches, the last a tip
that barely popped out of the catcher's mitt. The
game's goat then took a pitch up and in that almost hit
him in the head. An "Ooo" from the fans filled the
stadium.
Blake swung at the next pitch and amazingly sent a
rocket line-drive into right field. Ten thousand
spectators leapt to their feet and when the ball
bounced safely off the fence, their thunder filled the
arena. Flynn had stopped halfway between first and
second to watch the flight of the ball, and he barely
made it to third base - the son-of-a-bitch should have
scored! But Blake chugged easily into second, and now
the tying run was in scoring position.
The tying run was on second, and Casey was at the bat!
Casey tapped the handle of his bat on the ground and
the lead donut fell to the ground. The blonde leaned
forward in her seat. "Casey, Casey, Casey..." her lips
moved as Casey approached the plate. He wrapped his
fingers around the handle of his heavy bat.
Not that Casey thought he'd get a chance to swing.
Casey expected to be walked intentionally. Too bad
Blake didn't hit just a single - then they'd have to
pitch to him. But with first base open, there was no
reason to put the game on the line pitching to one of
the game's premiere hitters.
The catcher jogged out to the mound to talk to the
young pitcher, and was soon joined by the coach and the
entire infield. No doubt discussing the defensive
strategy after Casey trotted with a free pass to first.
An electric hum filled the stadium. Casey looked at the
blonde, who was only a few feet away now. She was a
real beauty, wearing a short pleated skirt and a small
white top that left her midriff bare. Seated in the
front row, he could see her legs crossed, one over the
other, her smooth, tan knees shining in the sunlight.
The visiting team conferred on the pitcher's mound, and
Casey made eyes with the blonde. She smiled at him and
leaned forward in her seat. Casey thought of walking
over to her, striking up a conversation. He could ask
if she wanted to see his bat and balls after the game.
That one almost always worked.
Casey stayed put and adjusted himself. The woman just
smiled and fingered her lips. And very nice lips they
were. Ample lips, soft lips. Her fingertips stroked
back and forth underneath that pouty lower lip.
And Casey watched as she put her thumb in her mouth.
_Oh sweet Jesus_, Casey thought. Her lips wrapped
softly around the base of her thumb and she sucked it,
and Casey knew exactly who he would spend the night
with tonight!
The umpire broke up the conference and the gray-clad
defense jogged back to their positions. The catcher
crouched behind the plate, and Casey took his stance.
He glanced one last time at the blonde, who sunk two
fingers right into her mouth. She pumped them slowly in
and out between her red lips.
The pop of the ball in leather shook Casey out of his
stunned trance. "Strike one!" the umpire said.
"Fuck!" Casey said to himself. "They're pitching to
me!" The stands remained eerily silent for several
beats, and Casey felt a moment of panic. Did his fans
notice his lack of attention? What if they turned on
him? What if they forgot the legend that is Casey?
"That ain't my style," said Casey, in an attempt to
appease the crowd.
Like the beating of storm waves on a distant shore, a
muffled roar rose from the stands. "Kill him! Kill the
umpire!" someone shouted. The blonde was on her feet,
her fist in the air. Her breasts wobbled wonderfully
under her top, like two softballs nestled in an
umpire's ball bag.
Casey grinned in relief. He still had them. He raised
his hand to the crowd and the din instantly abated. He
nodded to the pitcher, who just glared back. Cocky son-
of-a-bitch, that boy was. It's almost like he didn't
know who Casey was!
Casey waited a moment for the fans to settle back in
their seats. The crowd was as tense as a batter
waiting for a bases-loaded three-two pitch. If Casey
could smack one out of the park, the place would
explode.
The girl was in her seat, this time with her knees
apart. The shadowy area between her thighs made Casey
ache. Those smooth thighs. And the possibility of what
was between them. She smiled at him and her lips moved,
"Oh, Casey," she seemed to say.
Casey tapped the plate with his bat and looked at her
again. She raised her leg up and hooked her shoe on the
upper rail. Her skirt rode way up, and underneath was
nothing but cunt. Sparsely-haired blond cunt with a
deep pink gash.
Casey nearly dropped his bat. He looked at the woman's
face long enough to see her evil grin. And then her
twat again. His prick began to unfurl like an American
flag in a stiff breeze.
Oh, to fuck that hot bod! Yes, Casey would show her a
thing or two about baseball stars! He would slide his
cock into that cooze like a base runner sliding into
second. He'd pump her like a pitcher pumping his arms
before throwing a high hard one. He'd blast her with
jizz like the blast of a 500-foot homerun over the
right field fence.
And just then, Casey remembered where he was. He heard
the expectant hush of the crowd and he instantly
whipped his eyes towards the mound.
But he never even saw the ball. By the time he focussed
on the pitcher, the boy was already surging towards
home plate, and Casey couldn't pick up the pitch's
release point. He only heard the hiss of the ball and
the smack of the catcher's glove.
The umpire said, "Strike two!"
A chorus of "Fraud!" rose from the stands. Angry
screaming. Were they yelling at the umpire, or were
they yelling at him?
And through it all, the hot little thing never even
dropped her leg - she just kept her foot up on the
rail. And her hand moved between her legs. Her fingers
played over her cunt like a pitcher turning the ball
over in his hand looking for a seam.
Casey had met some brazen women over his career. There
was that twat he took to dinner in Columbus, the one
who flashed a nipple at him during dessert. And a bunch
of chicks who liked to fuck with the lights on. But
Casey had never seen anything like this!
She pushed a finger right inside and eased it out all
wet and glistening. Casey almost said, "Fuck this
game!" But no, his fame was built around baseball. He
would just slam the ball over the fence for the game-
winning homerun, get his picture taken for the papers,
and plow her cunt until it was time for the next game!
All he had to do was get the hit out of the way. He had
to concentrate. Concentrate on hitting that ball.
Casey violently pounded his bat on the plate. He
imagined pounding his cock into that pretty little
pussy. Oh, how he was going to make her squeal!
The pitcher boy bent over at the waist, grinding the
ball against his hip. Behind the pitcher, Blake led off
second base, tentatively, like a young virgin before
her first fuck. Everyone was on their feet, screaming
and stomping. Everyone was on their feet except the
girl. The girl. The girl sitting with both feet up,
blond beaver all open and ready, her fingers slipping
up and down through her ripened slit. Casey's cock was
as hard as a line drive up the middle.
Casey was going to get laid, that much was for sure.
But he had a game to attend to. He tore his eyes away
from that amazing cunt, and the pitcher was just
beginning his wind-up. Casey was going to spend a long,
memorable night between the thighs of that sweet thing,
and here comes the ball ...
The air was shattered by the force of Casey's blow. The
mighty swing of one of baseball's biggest stars.
But Casey had no idea that boy had such a good
fastball. With his big swing, Casey was behind the
pitch, and his bat was barely off his shoulder by the
time the ball popped harmlessly into the catcher's
mitt. Far too late, Casey spun himself to the ground as
the pitcher punched the air in victory.
The crowd exhaled in unison, and there was a smattering
of applause as they rose as a group for the exits.
Casey stood, brushing off the dirt. Fuck! he thought.
Fuck!
Well, he shrugged, there is always tomorrow.
At least there was some prime grade ass in the stands.
Casey tossed his bat away and forced a humble grin.
These things happen, babe. He walked towards the
blonde, who was climbing over the rail to get onto the
field, that little skirt barely covering her naked ass.
Casey imagined her red lips wrapped around his big bat.
She was smiling like she'd just won the World Series.
They got closer, and he saw her face all lit up with
that groupie look, that lust for heroes that no woman
can control.
Casey remembered that amazing little cunt in Toledo,
the one with the double-jointed hips. She'd wanted him
to kiss her twat! No way was Casey going to do that!
She was a great fuck, but she turned on him like a
batter turning on a hanging curveball, and she left him
with a big woody and no way to relieve it. Casey went
oh-for-five the next game.
They got closer and her arms began to raise. Casey
couldn't wait to get that hot little number wrapped up
in his arms. He aped her motion, ready to feel her
squirming body rubbing up against him.
But she shot right past him, missing him by a good six
feet. He spun around, confused. And there she was,
wrapped up in the arms of pitcher boy.
They sucked face and the lucky son-of-a-bitch got a
double handful of that awesome ass. And her hand was
already rubbing up and down the boy's crotch like she
was roughing up a new baseball.
The pair separated just a few inches and bounced
together, arm in arm, towards the visitor's dugout.
They cast him a quick glance before they broke into a
quiet giggle.
Casey watched, his arms limp at his sides. The girl
glanced around one last time before they stepped down
into the dugout. She flipped her little skirt up,
giving him a final glimpse of her naked white ass. He
heard a loud laugh from inside the dugout. It looked
like the punk pitcher would head home to a most joyful
night.
But there would be no joy in Mudville.
Casey stared up into the blue summer sky. "Fuck!" he
screamed. A few straggling fans watched, shaking their
heads with disappointment.
And Casey turned back towards the losing dugout.
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 65