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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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--------------------------------------------------------
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.
--------------------------------------------------------

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