Originally published November 2015 as Smokey Saga #56
Welcome, friends! If you’re already acquainted with my young ladies Sara Jane Kelton and Melleny Alison Hayes, glad to have you back! If you’re a fan of the girls, then here you go; you’re welcome. If you’re not familiar with them, their first five stories (“Happy Endings” I, II, III, IV, V) are available elsewhere in my Noveltrove library. That oughta keep you spirited fun-seekers occupied a while. See ya when you get here!
Well hey! Now that you’re up to speed, welcome to Chapter 6! Fair warning: this is gonna be a LONG one, but has three good, hot erotic scenes. Melleny has a smaller role this time around—not nonexistent, just smaller—but do bear in mind that in part 1 she had virtually no role at all. In honor of Miss Sara herself, being that she’s one of the most beloved characters I’ve created, I originally timed this story to be published on her thirtieth birthday (11-19-15). *party noise* HAPPY BIG 3-0, SARA!! *more party noise*
…With A Chance Of Softballs
Saturday, November 28th, 2015, 11:41 a.m.
“How ’bout that one?” asked Sara.
“Right there?” Jake pointed. “That looks like a kangaroo pouch.”
“Oh, good one, bro!” Sara laughed. “How ’bout you, sweetie?”
“If I’m looking at the same one you guys are, I’m looking at a seashell,” giggled Mel.
“Oh, yeah, I can see that,” mused Sara. “Hey, let’s find another one and make a seashell bra!”
“Ooh, good idea,” Melleny grinned. “Then let’s find one that looks like a cute topless babe and pretend we just took it off her.”
“Whoa-ho!” chuckled Jake. “I like the way you two think!”
The trio was cloudwatching. It was an unseasonably warm day shortly after Sara’s big 3-0. They’d taken this weekend morning, the legendary memory-laden blanket, some sandwiches, chips, cookies and bevvies to the Glens Park for a picnic. After defending their hearty brunch from the Glens Colony of Hungry Ants, they lay on their backs gazing into heaven, trying to identify its fluffy shifting sculptures. They were sprawled in such a way that if straight lines were drawn from each of their feet, an obtuse scalene triangle would be formed. They’d become quite the b.f.f. threesome.
“Oh!” said Mel, digging into her pocket. “I just remembered!”
Remembered what, Jake wasn’t sure, but Sara had an idea. They couldn’t quite see what she was doing, but heard a lot of quick button pushes. Finally, Sara’s phone chimed. Yup, she was right.
“Aww-w-w! Look, Jake, it’s my daily love text!” Sara showed him.
im alwz on cld 9 w/u <3 mel
Jake chuckled with her, finding it only adorable that his galpals exchanged romantic messages in ridiculously close proximity. Sara texted back, giving Mel’s phone a jingle. Bringing up Sara’s reply, she then showed Jake.
u re my care bear, sez sare, so there
The scavenger hunt (so to speak) of Sara Jane Kelton’s life was almost complete. Checking the boxes, she’d found, in chronological order—
—Two terrific parents…
—Some nice friends including the best guy-pal a young gal could ask for…
—A widespread cache of passions, hobbies and interests…
—A guardian angel in the form of her beloved rock star idol…
—Full-time employment in an industry that paid handsomely and bored her only an eighth of the way to tears…
—And boundless love and romance. Life was good to her. She didn’t know how she’d become so fortunate, but liked to think being a sweet person with a big heart had something to do with it. And speaking of hobbies, her thoughts were now pulling her towards a road she hadn’t been down in years.
“Yo!” she announced, pointing to the sky at 10 o’clock. “Check those out!”
“Which ones?” Jake asked. “The…skinny, fat and round fish?”
“Oh, no, Jake,” Mel chimed in. “I think she means that swizzle stick, the, eh…state of Michigan, and…the snowball.”
“No! No, you guys!” Sara shouted excitedly, retracting and pointing her finger again and again. “It’s a bat, a glove and a softball!”
Jake and Melleny tilted their heads back in Sara’s direction, watching as her zeal grew. They hadn’t noticed anything quite this specific. But it seemed Sara’d homed in on something that truly captured her fascination, which indeed she had.
All three friends were logically more athletic as stamina-loaded kids than as grown-ups. Sara in particular belonged to a kids’ bowling league on Saturday mornings, and she and Jake also played sports with the little boys around their neighborhood. They liked to tease her about being the only girl, but Sara refused to let such a little thing interfere with her fun. She was good at sports, and had always been a fan. She liked playing, watching on TV, and getting her folks to take her to games. She got such a kick from the adrenaline rush. When she watched at home, she’d jump and move around in front of the TV, pretending it was her out there being cheered on.
Between the neighborhood kids, they were equipped for a plethora of different games. They played baseball, football, basketball, soccer and street hockey. Sara’s team—which she usually tried to make sure was also Jake’s—sometimes won, sometimes not. But she always had fun. Baseball was her favorite. Secretly, Sara wished they could play softball, though even at her young age, she knew the boys wouldn’t go for that. They already ragged on her for clinging to Jake like a puppy. “Kelton’s got a boy-friend!” they mocked. In later years, she’d think to herself, Hah! If they only knew now!
It was softball which was her true passion. She loved softball. Why baseball didn’t ignite the same spark in her she couldn’t say, but as she blossomed into a young woman, she gradually pieced it together. There was something about an even larger than usual spherical object, to hold in her hand, grip, play with and toss up and down…that very much appealed to her. By the time her 20s drifted along and she knew she was a true lesbian, suddenly it all came very clear. Sara Kelton enjoyed toying with large round objects, and she’d too always liked her a well-endowed woman. It was that simple.
And now she very much wanted to play. She’d done some research, and found that sign-ups for Juniper’s women’s team, the Minnesota Sprites, started early December. Tryouts began late February the following year. She could hardly wait. After sharing the news with her two best mates, they naturally approved, with but one logical reservation.
“Oh, babe, that’s awesome!” said Mel. “Really, that’s so cool, but, um…and I don’t mean anything by this…you sure you’re the right age?”
“Yeah, sis,” Jake added. “I think she means…well, it just seems like most of the girls trying out’re gonna be more in the…y’know, twenty to twenty-five range.”
“Exactly,” agreed Melleny. “That’s really my only concern.”
“I know, I’ve already thought about it,” Sara informed them. “Yeah, most of these girls’re gonna be younger, probably just outta college. But I mean, I just wanna play. Even if I’ve got a few more years on me, I’m still good. And I’m pretty strong and fast, you guys know that. I know I might not even make it past tryouts, but if I do my best, that’s all anyone can ask. You guys’ll help me practice and get ready, right?”
Of course they would, they agreed; no problem.
“Yay!” Sara said, flopping on her back again. “Hey, check out that one: it’s a ball cap!”
Work That Girl And Work Her Hard
Saturday, December 5th, 2015, 12:36 p.m.
“I did it!!” Sara shouted, throwing the door wide open. “I signed up!”
She bounded in to where Mel came out to meet her, and jumped into her arms.
“Oh, wow,” said Melleny, continuing still to underestimate Sara’s enthusiasm. “Well, good for you, honey! I’m proud of you!”
“Yep! So now you gotta start helping me train! W—”
Sara stopped a moment to whiff the air. A familiarly wafting scent teased her nose.
“Is…is that pizza?”
“Oh, yeah, actually, it is; I just ordered it. I, eh…I didn’t realize you were gonna sign up for the team already.”
“Ah, doesn’t matter. Well, I’d better get started! You wanna be my coach?”
“’Course! Take off your shoes and socks, and I’ll just go grab our mats.”
Mel brought out their matching exercise mats on which they did yogilates. Trotting into the kitchen to gnaw a generous mouthful of ’zza, she returned and rolled out the mats.
“Arrighf,” she uttered between chews. Gulp. “First off, natch, we’ll do some stretching.”
Sara began to position herself, but Mel halted her. Crossing behind, she took the hem of Sara’s top and pulled it up. Sara felt her arms lifted for her as the shirt came off.
“Uh, Mmmf—” Sara started to ask as her face filled with fabric.
Mel didn’t respond. Instead, she whipped off Sara’s shirt, unhooked her bra, and then proceeded to undo her jeans. Sara turned a bit red.
“That’s Coach sweetie to you, Kelton,” Melleny smiled. Once she had Sara’s pants unfastened, she hooked in her thumbs. Taking hold of her jeans and panties, she yanked both down, abruptly exposing her ass and pussy.
“Wha—!” Mel’d just undressed her in about fifteen seconds flat. Sara couldn’t remember them ever having gotten one another’s clothes off this fast. She by no means objected, though she was, she had to admit, a trifle confused.
“Step out and hand ’em over,” Melleny ordered, gesturing with her fingers.
Her now naked girlfriend, pants around her ankles, sheepishly and hesitantly did as told.
“’At’s a girl.” Mel tossed the surrendered garments to the sofa and guided Sara to one mat as she assumed the other.
“Now mirror me.” Melleny flexed out her arms, one in front of her, one behind, and slid one foot down the mat until her legs were splayed at a 45° angle. Sara followed suit.
“Good. Now hold that pose…” Sara froze in position. Mel departed her mat and crossed behind. She placed her hands on Sara’s back and shoulders to adjust her posture. Suddenly, Sara felt that disarming touch that turned her to butter.
“Head parallel to the rest of your body…” Mel ordered. “Upright, spine straight. Arms symmetrical and level. That’s it…”
So this was why she’d disrobed her first. Or perhaps she’d just wanted to test her limits of endurance. Sara had to admit difficulty focusing under the guidance of Melleny’s magic masseuse fingers. She wasn’t sure if she’d enjoy this, or…well…enjoy it.
“Okay.” Her coach returned to the vacant mat and reassumed the position. “Now keep those gorgeous eyes on me, and do as I do.”
Well, no problem there. If Sara had her way, she’d sleep with her eyes open just to bathe forever in Mel’s beauty.
“Good, just like that, and we’re gonna start with the neck,” Melleny told her. “Now bring your left ear down, and slowly roll your head back, from shoulder to shoulder.”
Sara followed instructions, feeling and hearing her neck crick. “Ooh!”
“And now down with the right ear, and back the other way…good girl. Now the shoulders themselves. Take your arm across the chest like so…” Mel demo’d, “And pull till you feel your shoulder being stretched. Then the same on the other side.”
In timely order, Melleny took her through the triceps, wrists, quadriceps and hamstrings, bringing them to the legs. “Now I’m gonna have you lay down on your back, and lift your legs for me,” Mel directed. Sara lowered herself into this new prescribed position.
“’Atta gal. Now take the backs of your thighs—right under that sexy sexy little round ass of yours—and pull your legs back towards ya.”
Sara continued to do what she was told, cautiously looking up at her coach. Mel had a foot planted on either side, enabling Sara to look directly up her dress and peek at her blue panties. They looked dry, but the dark navy color rendered her unsure. Then she felt Melleny take her ankles. She tensed up, curling her toes.
“D—…pl-please don’t…you know,” Sara pleaded, knowingly helpless to defend herself.
“Hon-ey…” Mel chuckled, smirking down at her. “How cruel do you think I am?”
Well, there was a loaded question. Skirting it, Sara merely repeated her request.
“Very well. I’ll simply give you a hand. Just stretch as much as you can, and hold it.”
Sara found herself unable to take her eyes off the (regretfully opaque) panties. She couldn’t help wondering if Mel was doing this on purpose. She wouldn’t put it all the way past her. Melleny Hayes hadn’t an evil bone in her body, though a few of her bones had shown themselves to be mischievous. She’d never intentionally harm Sara, but she would own up to teasing and messing with her. All in the name of playful fun, of course.
“Just another second, and…very good!” praised Mel, letting Sara drop her legs.
“Whew!” said Sara, catching her breath. “We done?”
“With phase one.” Melleny headed to the kitchen, opening the pizza box to grab another slice before shoving it in the fridge.
“There’s more?” Perhaps this training thing wouldn’t be as easy as she thought.
Chomp. “Uh courff, yuh siwwy!” Mel returned. Gulp. “That was just the stretching part!”
“Mmph…” Sara shut her eyes. “Well, then, can I have some pizza?”
“Don’t be absurd; you’re in training. After we’re all done I’ll get you a nice greens salad.”
Sara let out a grumble as she pushed back up onto her sexy little round ass.
“Okay, but it better have chicken in it. You can’t take that away from me.”
“Fair enough. Now roll over on your side and gimme some leg lifts.”
Sigh. “All right, which side?”
“Up to you; we’re gonna do both.”
“I was afraid of that.” A disgruntled but obedient Sara flopped—almost by default—on her right hip. “How many, coach-sweetie?”
“Just do as many as you can. If I think you’re overdoing it, I’ll tell you to stop.”
Part of Sara was kind of regretting asking her girlfriend to be her coach. Another part of her was really regretting it. But a third part reminded the first two she loved and trusted Melleny, who wouldn’t lead her wrong. Mel had only the best intentions, wanting her to become fit and equipped to make the team. Sara really did want that. She took a breath, flexed her left gam, and swept upwards to a 75° angle. Mel crouched, nodding at Sara’s progress. While she believed in the effectiveness of this technique, she too relished the nice view of Sara’s fuzzy puss. She could see, touch and have Sara’s pussy anytime she wanted (as palpably proven nabbing her clothes before the workout began). But as vibrant as true love and romance remained, sex lives could use refreshment now and then. And so while exercise on its own benefitted Sara, Melleny profited as well. She was treated to the novelty of a naked Sara getting physical, starting to break into a sweat, all the time vulnerable to any advance Mel might make. She found this hot. She loved the idea of being a naughty coach, harassing her susceptibly nude trainee.
“How we feelin’, babe?” Mel asked at the onset of leg lift seventeen.
Sara puffed and panted. “Uh,” she breathed, “Startin’ to hurt, but I can go a few more.”
She made it to twenty-five, let her leg down, and dropped her head to the mat before rotating for the other twenty-five. A now turned-on Mel patted her thigh, and ran her hand to the other side, lightly goosing Sara’s ass. This obtained Sara’s attention.
Melleny did not answer. Instead, she let a tiny smile spread over her face, and drifted her fingertips towards Sara’s taint.
“Melleny? Uh…what’s going on?”
Sara looked up, but was interrupted by the sharp, hot sensation, as Mel snuck her hand between her thighs and groped her cunt.
Gasp. “MEL, what in th—”
Sara was a bit more startled than aroused, caught off-guard by this turn. Her reasoning for being in the buff was that Mel could conduct a better examination of her physiology. She hadn’t factored in that Mel might’ve also stripped her for her own entertainment.
“Melleny, wh—…um…what’cha doing?”
Mel’s grin grew. “Motivating you, pookie.” She goosed Sara’s pussy again, ordering, “Flip on over now. C’mon. Longer ya take, the more I’m gonna grope ya.”
“WHOAHHkay!” Sara exclaimed. This was more than enough motivation. It was more stimulating than painful. It almost drove her a little crazy. Her nipples plumped. She rotated onto her left and gave her coach twenty-five equally good lifts with her right leg. About halfway through these, however, she felt said coach palm her left inner thigh.
Oh, Goddess. “Um…Mel…”
“Don’t mind me, Sara. Just keep going.”
Sara made herself carry on, amid pokes and prods in the most random, temperamental spots. Then solely to be impish, Mel smacked and tickled her ass. Her interruptions disrupted, but also excited. Much as Sara tried to concentrate, she had to admit her libidinous side was enjoying this. The person coaching her through this exercise/teasing session was the person who turned Sara on more than anything. Mel’s touch in and of itself carried the power to make Sara swell with zeal, sizzle with yearning. On top of which, she’d cooked up more than a few sensual fantasies involving Melleny, making herself the submissive party, giving Mel the power to do with her as she would. And so while she may not have realized it, her girlfriend happened to be cashing in on this weakness right now. Finally, she finished her latter twenty-five lifts.
“Whew!” Sara collapsed in the mat once more. She was sweating, breath coming in rushed gasps. There was more than semi-arduous body training going on here. Now she had the bonus of taunting, almost tormentous libido-diddling, to add to the equation. If only she didn’t love it so damn much…
“Well done, baby doll,” congratulated Mel. “Now how about a few sit-ups next?”
“Mmmm…a’right,” Sara groaned, shifting up onto her bum. She had allowed some stamina to generate, so she felt more energized now. Though she was a bit preoccupied what sort of hormone-scorching antics Melleny’d in store for her during these. And whether she’d be able to withstand them. But Mel, she reminded herself, was better-versed in physical education. So Sara laid on her back, bent at the knees, soles to the floor, and let Coach Melleny kneel on the tops of her feet.
Sit-ups were one of Sara’s more prominent skills in phys ed growing up. In her heyday, she could squeeze a good sixty into a minute. She launched in, impressing both Mel and herself by knocking out thirty before she again dropped. Fortunately, her coach refrained from thrusting any roguish distraction on her this time.
“Very good, darling!” Melleny applauded. “Even more than I’d hoped for!”
Swell, thought Sara. She kept her legs together, hoping Mel didn’t notice her leaking, blushing cunt. She enjoyed flattering her, playing sub to Mel’s domme, but didn’t want Mel to think she was just a weak, jelly-kneed sexual marshmallow. There was no hiding her stiff nipples, both knew that. Melleny suspected Sara was getting fairly horny—at least she hoped so. Her own pussy was starting to sop through her panties as well.
Mel let her rest for a few minutes, getting up to fetch something from the bedroom.
Sara finally felt her knee patted. She looked up.
“Okeydoke, babe…” Mel waved her finger in a circle. “Over ya go. On your belly.”
Hmph, thought Sara, guessing the workout wasn’t finished yet. She complied.
“That’s my girl. Now just hold still a moment…”
Tiring out, Sara started crossing her arms at the wrists, to use her paws as a pillow. Then she felt something unusual.
She turned to look. Melleny had adjourned to rummage the closet till she found what she was looking for: a dress tie. They kept a tie and jacket or two in case they felt like gussying up special. Mel’d snatched one of the ties and was putting it to use around Sara’s ankles, tying her feet together. Sara’s brows jumped, eyes widening at this sight.
Mel didn’t look up, but continued her merry task at hand—or rather at foot. “Yes, dear?”
Sara didn’t believe she’d get a much more coherent answer, but nevertheless, felt obliged to again inquire, “What…exactly are you doing?”
“Why, I’m tying your ankles, goofy. Can you not discern that for yourself?”
Yes, she could. This wasn’t exactly what Sara was driving at.
Melleny finished with a nice tight but comfy double knot. “Well, as it turns out, there’s a very good reason for that, sweetie,” she explained. “The next little number you’re gonna do for me’ll be some good ol’-fashioned push-ups.”
Sara wasn’t looking forward to that. She whimpered, turned back to her wrists and defeatedly dropped her face. Mel chuckled behind her.
“Oh, buck up, babe. It won’t be that hard. Here’s the thing, though. Tying your feet’s for encouragement, to get you into the habit of keeping ’em together. Most people keep their feet wide apart ’cause it’s easier. But the fact is, you get a better workout with ’em together. Your body’s aligned and your limbs are all aimed the same way. So it may be a little harder, but it’ll strengthen your core. And do your best to keep your arms and back straight too. Keep your mind and heart gay; I just want your body straight.
“Oh, yes, and of course, the other reason I tied your feet’s so you can’t get up and run away from me!” Mel winked cheerfully.
“Hm. I’d agree with you, but you’d probably think I was kidding,” said Sardonic Sara.
“Moot point, love; ’s all moot,” smiled Merry Melleny. “Now, I want some good push-ups. Don’t you push back up till those boobies touch the mat. And remember, I’m watching.”
Tee-rific. “I don’t suppose you’d let me get a major breast enlargement first?”
Mel laughed. “Don’t ever lose that sense of humor, sweetie. If we have love and laughter together, we have the world in our hands.”
This made Sara glow. Maybe she could handle these push-ups after all. She brought herself up, taking care to keep herself straight (so to speak), and lowered until she felt the girls brush the elastomer. Okay, she thought, And back on up…and repeat. Down…and…back up. And again. Her first five push-ups posed no problems.
“Good, good,” Mel ascertained. “Keep going…” The naughty smile spread her cheeks.
“…And pay no attention to what you’re gonna feel in just a second.”
Uh-oh…oh dear, what does that mean?…
Melleny reached beneath Sara, between her straightened-out legs with those magic fingers, and began ever so sensually massaging her moist pink pussy. Sara let out her champion gasp of the day and almost crashed right to the floor.
WHAT the—?! “Pay no attention”?? To this?? You have gotta be kidding me!
Sara felt her eyes roll back. Palms firmly planted in the carpet, toes pressing into the mat, there was nothing she could do about it, even if she’d wanted to. Once again, that sneaky Melleny had slipped a raunchy advance in the middle of her calisthenics, taking advantage of Sara at her most powerless and helpless. Sara resented her and loved her for it. And she knew that Mel would demand she continue, despite the oh so erotic malice heaped upon her. She was already sweating, as horny as a weasel, and her sadist of a girlfriend-coach wouldn’t stop. She just poured it on.
She continually rubbed Sara over and between the labia. Sara’s knees and elbows wobbled. She didn’t want to surrender to gravity, plummeting to the floor and squashing Mel’s hand, but she was losing strength. It felt so damn good, so ravishingly hot…how Sara longed to roll over and give in to the pressuring passion. How she was dying to melt into this lavic pool of pleasure. But she wasn’t to be granted this privilege yet.
Unexpectedly as she’d begun, Mel abruptly ceased, whipping her dominant paw from below to above, and whapping Sara square on the ass.
Spank! “Keep going with those push-ups, missy!”
“Oh-ho-hohhhhhh!” Sara wailed in frustrated agony. How sinister. How downright wicked. Melleny had chosen just the exact moment she was beginning to lose herself, immersing in the sheer sublimity. And she had denied her.
“Oh, plee-ee-ease!” Sara begged, on the verge of weeping. She looked back under her body, past her heaving, dangling tits. “Please touch me!” she pleaded. “I can’t stand it!”
“Sorry, Kelton,” came the stern reply. “No more rewards till you finish.”
The spank on her ass was harsh, but didn’t even sting. Sara could focus on nought but her throbbing cunt, aching for the love it would not receive. Her thinking was pretty fuzzy at the moment, but she didn’t know the Melleny she knew could be so devious and strict. Then again, they had engaged in fantasies in the past that reflected similarity—playing out the aforementioned top and bottom roles.
What Sara didn’t suspect was that Melleny was exploring a new reach in her libido and hormones. She too was inspired by their roleplaying, and saw fit to bring some of that authoritative flavor into their real life. She wasn’t consciously meaning to be…well, mean…but in her mind, they were acting. Playing fantasy characters, but essentially portraying themselves. They were allowed to fudge a bit on their sexual résumés in the name of fun and adventure, weren’t they?
Sara wasn’t thinking so much along these lines. She was concerned solely with getting that warm, soft hand back in contact with her pulsating coochie. She computed she could only accomplish this by getting on with her push-ups. So she shut her eyes, winced, forced back the volcanic pleasure with all her might, and lowered to the mat.
Melleny grinned, secure in the satisfaction that she had Sara in the palm of her hand—figuratively and literally. She could make the girl do anything she wished right now. Moreover, she could do anything to her. She could go so far as to tickle her (tied) feet, which she loved because it drove Sara so insane. Sara hated having her feet tickled, and the perverse, playful side of Mel adored such ways of getting her goat. She wouldn’t say she loved torturing Sara, she just…enjoyed having a little fun here and there, if at Sara’s expense…in exchange for reciprocation. Was that so terribly wrong?
But she told herself to have mercy as Sara struggled and soldiered on with the push-ups. She was obviously working hard at this. By twelve, Sara was grimacing, fighting back sweat and tears, both from physical strain and also the delayed gratification her pussy still so craved. Her teeth gnashed. Her sore muscles smarted. Mel was working her like a dog. Each push-up grew considerably more difficult than the last. Finally, at twenty-two, Sara determined that was all she had, and crashed.
For all she knew, she could’ve fallen to sleep once her cheek hit the mat. Her mouth hung open, catching breath. A not so tiny trickle of drool dribbled out.
“Hmm…” Mel assessed. Sara blinked, grabbing her bearings, and swiped her lips dry.
“…Twenty-two. Well, Kelton, that’s a decent number, but to tell you the truth…”
Sara didn’t think she liked the sound of this.
“I was pretty pleased with those twenty-five leg lifts. What say ya gimme three more?”
“Uhhhhh…” Sara groaned. “Babe, jam a fork in me.”
“C’mon, sweets, three more. Unless, of course, you’d rather gimme ten more.”
“Oh, for eff’s sake,” complained Sara, “Mel, I’m tired! Haven’t I done enough already??”
“Three more good, decent push-ups, boobies to the floor, and that’s it; you’re done.”
Sara felt Mel’s nails poke her worst spot. The pink, deathly sensitive, nerve ending-laden soles of her 7½ peds. A chill struck her.
“Oh yeah?…Want your footsies tickled??”
Gasp. “NO! No. Ok-okay, okay.” It was effective persuasion for Sara to locate her second wind. She fulcrumed herself onto her joints, propped her toes, planted her palms, descended, and let her girls to the floor.
“Errrrrgggghhh…” she expressed. Twenty-three down—or rather, up—two to go. She blew out her breath and repeated.
“GAAAAAHHHhhhh…” One to go.
At last, she was through. Fwump! she landed once more. Finally, her feet were untied.
“Fabulous!” Melleny congratulated, clapping for her. “That’s my Sara Kelton! Well a’right then. I owe you one killer orgasm.”
“Ohhhhhhh…” Sara’s eyes fluttered closed. She felt she could drop to sleep for about a week. “Mel, I’m too wrecked now.”
Melleny flipped her onto her back. A naughty smirk painted her lips.
“Tough, rookie. You’ll now keep your wrists above your head. As if someone’s glued them there. Disobeying Coach Hayes will lead directly to trouble.” Cue the evil wink and grin. Albeit wiped, her sweaty, horny trainee was made happy to comply.
Mel dug her right knee betwixt Sara’s legs and forced them ajar. Sara couldn’t put her finger on what happened next, but Melleny could. And did. Sara screamed. She began to reflexively sit up, but Mel forced her back down. She passionately clutched Sara’s right tit, massaging the nipple between her fingers, leaning down to whisper.
“If you wanna make my team, Kelton…” Mel cooed to her, “…You’re gonna have to endure one more intense trial.”
Sara’s cunt leaked and dripped pre-cum all over itself. She was so wildly, torridly turned on she didn’t think she even needed her hands. She gazed up into Melleny’s optic cobalt pools with defiance, and smiled back.
“Try me, coach.”
Mel’s eyebrows arched, complementing her sneaky smile. This surge of defiance on Sara’s part surprised her, but also ignited her like alcohol on an open flame. Her panties went damp right through, almost instantaneously. Sara was deciding to take some initiative of her own. Melleny liked this. She elected to take it up another notch and see what Sara’d do next. She slid down till her body horizontally overlapped Sara’s, clasped her non-dominant hand around Sara’s wrists to hold her down, and nuzzled her nose.
“Moan for your coach, rookie,” Mel taunted, intimately rubbing Sara’s pussy. Sara arched her back, making herself as helplessly, deliciously vulnerable as possible. Melleny chuckled, feeling her fingers squish in Sara’s cunt’s love juice.
“Hope you’re ready to commit yourself, Kelton,” said Mel. “’Cause you’re in this for the long haul. You’re in my boot camp now.”
She was pouring it on again, playfully tantalizing. Sara ground the back of her head into the mat. She, was, loving it: her girlfriend roleplaying a coach who was working her hard, making her pay, sexually “harassing” her to get that which they both desired. She mouthed desirous exultations, daring not talk over her coach, who went on showering her in fiery kisses and kink-bursting taunts.
“And this is just the beginning. What you got from me today was just a taste of things to come, Sara Kelton. I’m gonna put you through the most extreme training you’ve ever experienced.” She dropped her voice even lower, hissing in Sara’s ear.
“Hot… steamy… electric… exertion,” purred Melleny, feeling Sara’s pussy swell. Her clit bulged and throbbed, too erect to hide beneath its hood. And Mel knew it.
“I know your weak spots, Kelton,” came the syrupy voice, toying with her mind. “I know exactly how to get you…right where I want you.” She took Sara’s ear lobe between her teeth. “Consider me your own personal drill sergeant.”
Sara couldn’t keep silent another second. She screeched, her decibel level shooting from zero to sixty in an instant. Her lust-starved monologue went on as before, now filled in by shouts of yearning. Her tach slammed back down to zero and began steadily climbing the next rev, pleasure and sizzle now multiplied.
“Oooh-hoo-hoo!” Mel giggled in delight and flattery. Though she and Sara’d made each other make such sounds and many others in the past, her enthusiasm didn’t waver. She looked up to a pleasing side view of her angelic trainee’s sweating face, hopelessly lost in throes of ecstasy, far past any no-return point. Her eyes were pinched shut, mouth gasping pleas for release. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Her wrist started to ache, but its otherwise tangible complaints didn’t make it to her brain. She kissed the sweat from Sara’s cheek and temple. For her part, Melleny was surprised she’d conjured such torturous, teasing phrases to mock-intimidate her darling with. These threats and menacing words didn’t reflect her personality whatsoever—things she’d never say or mean in other settings. She must’ve been better at this roleplaying thing than she expected. She’d always thought of herself as a half-decent actress, but didn’t know she was so good at improv’ing.
Minute after minute elapsed as Mel took her to the edge, let her dangle and pulled her back. Sara was going insane. The fire of passion laced her in aimless trails, meeting and feeding itself ceaselessly. Her body blotched as searing lightning strikes assaulted her. Her puffed, blood-red pussy oozed more and more violently, as Mel melted and milked her. Gravity abandoned her, and she was summoned to the heavens. It was only a matter of seconds now. She could see the portal open through her eyelids. She did her best to wait while brought towards it…could almost touch it…could almost taste it…
Finally, Melleny granted the inevitable access.
“I love you, Sara Jane Kelton.”
She barely got out the ‘k’ sound in her last name.
“OOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!! OhhhhhhhYESSSSS!!” Sara shrieked. Tears burst from her eyes, cum from her pussy, as if through a dam, splattering Melleny’s glowing hand in hot stickiness. This orgasm was so explosively dynamic, Sara could swear her cum came. It was just how so shaken up and overwhelmed Little Sara was. Now the rest of her was as dizzied beyond belief. In the midst of it all, she felt Melleny get up.
“All right, Kelton, now get your mitt and hit the field.”
The words swirled into Sara’s brain and took a moment to register. She tried to look up.
Melleny laughed good-naturedly. “Just kidding, sweetie. I’m gonna go do me now.”
Practice Still Makes Pretty Darn Good
Sunday, February 28th, 2016, 10:23 p.m.
Sara and Mel’s next two and a half months were spent whipping the former into shape for her tryout. They started at a sporting goods store, picking up the objects Sara saw in the clouds, and having catches in the yard. They conducted more exercise sessions, both in-home (which often turned intimate) and at the Oakland Hills Health Club on Arnold Highway (which did not). Mel pitched to her to work on her hitting, and took her to the batting cages. They beckoned assistance from Jake and Sara’s Dad, who hit them fungoes and grounders in her parents’ yard. And just like when the kids were little, they came back inside to find her Mom having made them a pitcher of lemonade.
Sara’s mind was starting to swim from all the pointers and advice. Running, catching and fielding weren’t too complicated, but there was more involved in hitting than she’d realized. “Back elbow up, dominant hand on top.” “Feet evenly apart, step into the pitch.” “Shoulders square, level swing.” “Eye on the ball, watch for the possible break at the last moment.” Sara’s batting and technique improved, but the curve ball unabatedly confounded her. She just couldn’t seem to nail it. But she was sure she’d get more practice once she got to camp. The last tip her Dad gave her was, “Watch for the pitcher’s timing, let the ball come to you, and you’ll learn to sense just the exact right moment. It’ll get bigger and bigger, until you can’t possibly miss it.”
Mel went on keeping her to a strict diet and working her like a dog with their exercises, which she swore were for Sara’s own good and benefit. At first, Sara found this tough to believe. Not quite as tough as Mel was in drill sergeant mode, but tough. But as the weeks wore forth, Sara had to admit things were getting easier. She was shedding weight, completing calisthenics quick and thorough, and even starting to develop a taste for green leafy vegetables—to which she’d never before been too partial. Maybe, she sometimes joked to herself, just maybe, she was actually becoming an adult. Gasp!
2016’s Leap Year Day would host tryouts for the Sprites, just north of Rochester. It loomed intimidatingly ahead, but Sara kept telling herself to just have fun. To be her amazing self, hang out, meet everyone, and do her best. Still, she couldn’t deny a measure of nervousness vis-à-vis the big day. Her family and friends worked her out right up to Sunday the 28th, and easier though it had become, Sara was so jittery she didn’t think she could fall asleep. She felt even too nervous to make love, she told Melleny as they lay in bed, gazing into one another’s eyes.
“You sure, sweetie?” asked Mel. “A big ‘O’’ll definitely help get ya to sleep,” she winked.
“I’m sure, babe. Just hold me tonight. That’ll help me relax. Just snuggle me to pieces.”
Can do, Mel thought. She slipped one arm under Sara, the other over and around, shifting her butt and legs closer. “How’s this?”
“Perfect, as usual.”
“I’m gonna miss you so much,” said Melleny, rubbing her head against Sara like a cat.
“Oh, sweetie, camp’s just a week,” Sara replied, stroking Mel’s cheek. “And if I make the team, we’re not gonna be traveling that much. And you can come to the home games.”
Mel kissed her. Sara’s occupied lips curled up into a pleased grin. “Mmm, that’s nice.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
Sara laid a peck on Melleny’s rosy cheek. Mel plopped one on Sara’s soft button nose. Sara planted one on Melleny’s left eyebrow. As Mel’s heart began accelerating, she returned to Sara’s plushy lips. She upped her aggro with this kiss, Sara noted. Whether it was deliberate or not, Sara felt the need to put the brakes on.
“Mmm—whoa, okay there, tiger,” she chuckled, placing a finger to Melleny’s smirking lips. “‘No’ means ‘not right now.’”
Melleny shrugged, innocently casting her gaze to Sara’s glow-in-the-dark dinosaur stickers on the ceiling.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
A Leap Of Their Own (Camp-Fireball Girls)
Monday, February 29th, 2016, 9:01 a.m.
Mel gave Sara all her well-wishes Sunday night so she could get up early and head to camp. She tossed her gear in the passenger seat with her beloved backpack and hit the road. Upon arrival, she was introduced to the owner, manager and GM, and showed into the clubhouse. She looked around. Some girls were gabbing and laughing. Some were unpacking by their chosen bunks. Sara opted for a friendly-looking bunk towards the middle of the room, both halves of which seemed unclaimed. She thought she’d take a bottom—no pun intended—what with her habit of tossing, turning and kicking in her sleep. She began to set her stuff down, looking around in case someone else had already planted her flag there. No one halted her, so she proceeded.
“You’re new here, ain’t’cha?”
Sara turned to see a tall ginger who could’ve been Julianne Moore’s doppelgänger.
“Yeah! I am,” Sara held out her paw. “Sara Kelton.”
The smoky, attractive redhead snatched Sara’s offered hand and gripped it, almost detaching her arm in the process.
“Staycie Dunheuser. Pitcher. Inventor of the Windmill Fireball.”
“…Wow,” reacted Sara. “…Well, I’m sure glad you’re on my team!”
“Damn straight, rook. Don’t mean to brag, but I pitched two no-hitters last season.”
“Well…hey!” Sara nodded with a cordial chuckle. “Like I said.”
“Yeah. So we’ll see if you can get a hit off me. I’ll give ya a demo when we hit the field.”
“Well, I’m not too bad; I just can’t hit a curve ball.”
“Oh, yeah; lotta batters hate the breaker. ’Course, my Fireball’s no piece of cake either.”
They chatted a little longer. At 25, Staycie’d been playing minor league softball for four seasons. She grew up in Green Plains and had just recently graduated from Denmore with a major in physical education. Staycie didn’t just play softball. She lived it. She breathed it. She woke up each morning and went to bed each night thinking about it. Funnily enough, her interest hadn’t developed until her teens. Like Sara, she took enjoyment in handling large spherical objects.
“By the way,” said Staycie, “Not to be whatever, but…aren’t you a little, kinda…not young, to be starting softball?”
“Oh, well, y’know, Babe Ruth was 39 when he joined the Yankees.”
Staycie made a surprised face. “W—…really?”
“No,” Sara shook her head with an amused smirk. “Not really. That’s from the movie Patch Adams. My best friend Jake and I saw it when we were thirteen. See, Robin Williams’s about to start med school, right, and someone asks him that—isn’t he a little old. And that’s what he says: ‘Babe Ruth was 39 when he joined the Yankees.’ And the other guy goes, ‘No, he wasn’t.’ And Robin says, ‘You’re right. But I could really use an example like that, and if you come up with one, please lemme know.’”
Their conversation was halted by an insistent whistle, from the opposite end of the room. It was the coach and manager, Darcy Adair. She followed up the whistle with a hearty clap of the hands. “A’right, ladies, line up!” The invitees trotted from between the bunks and formed lines on either side. Adair started down the middle of them.
“Welcome to Minnesota Sprites spring training twenty-sixteen! I hope you girls are ready for some serious action, ’cause that’s exactly what you’re about to get!”
“Ooooh,” Sara giggle-whispered to Staycie. “Could be fun, huh?”
Staycie discreetly elbowed her.
“We are gonna run the gamut, ladies,” Coach Darcy continued. “You are going through the gauntlet. All of ya. So I hope you’ve got what it takes. There are forty of yas in this room right now. Of these forty, twenty-eight of you…” She paused for effect.
“…Will not make this team.”
Sara’s eyebrows jumped. Whoa. She knew making it wouldn’t be easy, but…
Adair reached the end and about-faced. “Now, a few of those cut twenty-eight may be kept around as accessories: assistant coaches, record keepers, et cetera. If offered these supplementals, it is your prerogative to accept or decline. But! We’ll deal with that when the time comes. In the meantime, we’re gonna weed through the lot of ya, and we are gonna find twelve serious potential ballplayers. And those twelve will drive the real guts of this game. Ladies, it is no secret that the sports-conscious world views softball as an average priority. Part of the connotation’s right there in the name of the sport: ‘softball.’ ‘Soft.’ We are softballers! And as such, we’re consequently soft. Right??
“Wrong!” she went on, waiting no time for an answer. “Clear that silliness from your heads this instant! Ladies, we are not out to change the name of our sport. What we’re looking to do is improve its level of regard. Our critics’re wrong when they deem the sport of softball a cutesy little girls’ game—or the inferior form of the national pastime—and we are gonna show them why! So the next time someone says, ‘You play ball like a girl,’ I want you to make them take a step back and think twice about that!”
Some of the girls cheered. All for this sentiment, Sara clapped along.
“Now, I can see some of y’all’re here from last year’s team, and some of y’all’re new. But first time or not, I’m gonna hold you all to the same standard. You wanna make this team, I wanna see more than just talent in you ladies,” Adair shouted. “I wanna see determination in your eyes! I wanna see heart in your gameplay! I wanna see you push yourself past your limits! And by God, I wanna see pride in your souls this season, when we destroy those Longhorns!”
Again, the girls cheered. Sara’s ears perked up. Even though she was new here, she recognized that name. The Madison Longhorns were the Minnesota Sprites’ sworn rivals in the midwestern women’s division. The last title the Sprites took was in 2001. Each of the fourteen years they approached divisional victory since, Wisconsin’s fierce Longhorns had swept in and snatched triumph right out from under their noses. But Coach Darcy Adair was absolutely determined that after a decade and a half of upsets, 2016 was the year that had Sprite written all over it. She went on.
“’Cause I will see who’s gonna make this cut and who’s not. I know what separates the women from the girls. Who has it and who doesn’t. This isn’t gonna be all fun-times. Apathy and half-asses don’t make it here. So if any of yas doesn’t have one hell of an investment in the Minnesota Sprites, you can save us all the trouble; there’s the door.”
She gestured and waited. None of the girls departed. All forty stayed in place.
“Good!” Darcy clapped again. “Then I’ll assume each of you’s serious about this opportunity. Am I right?!”
Thirty-nine girls responded in unisonous cheers and affirmation. Sara realized she was a bit late. “Oh, uh—yeah!!” she called out, echoing the rest.
Darcy turned to Sara, and approached to stand before her. Oops. Uh-oh, she gulped.
Coach Adair looked her up and down. “What’s your name, rookie?”
“Sara Kelton…uh, ma’am.”
Darcy waited a moment, and nodded. “You look pretty sharp, Kelton. Hope you can back that up on the field.
“A’right! Suit up, and outside in fifteen for warm-ups!” Tweet!!
“If You Jilled It…She Will Cum”
Thursday, March 3rd, 2016, 6:14 p.m.
Tweet!! “Okay, ladies, hit the showers!”
It was a few grueling evenings later. Sara Kelton, Staycie Dunheuser and the fifteen other girls left in the running for the 2016 Minnesota Sprites vacated the field.
Sara was wrecked. And she’d thought the workouts with her girlfriend were tough. Darcy hadn’t been kidding. Her pertinent skills were being finely tuned, if only at the price of stamina. On one hand, she was having the time of her life. She felt like a kid. On the other hand, she was being reminded on a constant basis that she was not a kid, as numerous parts of her body were collectively kicking her ass. She was knocking herself out to stay in the running, but oh, was it taking its toll on her.
“C’mon, ol’ lady!” called Staycie as she jogged by and spanked Sara’s butt. “Race ya!”
Part of her couldn’t help but feel this’d be easier were she younger, closer to these girls’ aver-age. But she couldn’t change that if she wanted to. At the beginning of the week, Coach Adair’s no-nonsense speech had frankly intimidated her. But she told herself to take that intimidation and turn it into the very heart and determination Darcy wanted to see. She reiterated to herself countless times to do one thing each day: her best. She didn’t know about going past her limits, but knew enough not to let her expectations and hopes float too high. She could be dismissed any day, but if she did her best, it was all that could be asked, and she’d leave with a high-held head. But Monday passed, then Tuesday, and Wednesday, and she’d yet to be informed that she was going home.
This made it no easier, however, to bid goodbye girls who didn’t make it. Sara felt bad for them, in particular those unable to take the news in stride. She perceived making this team was a big step in their hopes and dreams. When she thought of it this way, Sara felt a little guilty. As if she hadn’t tried out, she wouldn’t have taken a roster spot away from another player. Not that this wasn’t important to her. She may not have been as obsessed as Staycie, but this was a childhood dream for her too.
But this was only half the story. She missed Mel like crazy, especially sleeping cuddled up at night. And she’d made a deal with herself this week to try not to think about anything to confuse her mind, and definitely not to touch herself. But she realized she’d underestimated the situation. Gravely. She was surrounded by forty women including Coach Adair, which she’d anticipated. But she’d failed to predict the impact this massive estrogen injection would make on her. At heart, she was a tried and true lesbian. And her devotion to Melleny Hayes was no less absolute. Alas, this did not immunize her mind to unbidden stray and naughty thoughts.
It didn’t matter if a few of them were straight, most, or all of them. They were female. Running, throwing, swinging, huffing, perspiring—even in 50° March weather—literally hot girls. And saying goodbye to four or five of them per day didn’t curb Sara’s urges. She had a wonderful girlfriend back home, the most beautiful on the planet, and she shouldn’t be having these impulses. Unfortunately, it wasn’t up to her brain alone.
Nothing was wrong in making friends. True, she was here to play ball, not socialize. But nothing said she and teammates couldn’t spend off time just shooting the breeze. The problem arose when she’d feel the familiar stirrings inside, and was reminded she didn’t have Mel to alleviate them. Sara wasn’t by nature a horn dog, but still human. A normal sexually functioning woman with needs and desires. She could and would never cheat on Mel, but by mid-week, she was starting to seriously need some sort of outlet.
Much as she wanted to, she could not just go home, grab Mel, make her drop whatever she was doing and rock her world. At least not till Sunday. The camp was quite a ways from home. And she’d be expected back at the clubhouse and in her bunk by 11:00. By Thursday, the everpresent surge of femininity had her so densely engulfed she could taste it. And Staycie’s occasional friendly ass-smacks certainly didn’t cool her off. Nor did sharing the shower. Even though the thick steam, standing in the presence of naked teammates soaping themselves under the spray didn’t go unnoticed. It was a good thing Sara was shielded by her own steam, where no one could see her coy grin or perking nipples. As the evening agonizingly dragged, and the lights mercifully went out at the stroke of eleven, Sara was so sizzlingly fired up, she’d have to think about her grandparents getting nasty just to dent her arousal. Finally, she had to give in to her pounding libido. Screw it, we’re doing this.
Sara intended only to think of sweet Melleny as she jilled off. Little Sara had other ideas.
Madame Dunheuser of the Redheads is only one bunk away.
Don’t even think about thinking about her. We’re taken. We’re a kept woman.
I want Staycie. You know you do too. She’s so damn hot! Oh, and that arm! We almost hit one of her pitches the other day.
Exactly. She’s too hot. And too fast. She’s out of our league.
Ha ha, very punny. Seriously, though, I’m ordering you. Fantasize about her. Right now.
“No”? “No way”??…Allow me to remind you, you’re a horny stoat right now. Have you forgotten who’s in charge when you’re horny?
Oh-ho-ho! Challenge gladly accepted.
Sara was feeling adventurous, but didn’t realize the full power of her stimulation. A blaze of passion tore through her as Little Sara accepted her challenge. Her head whipped on her pillow as she fought to keep her voice down. Ideally, she’d run to the girls’ room to take care of business like this, but Darcy preferred her girls take care of themselves in the restroom before bed. Should she drop in to check on them and hear suspicious noises, that wouldn’t end well. At least in bed, she could hear if the coach slipped in, and quickly unhand herself.
It really was almost quiet enough to hear a pin drop. So Sara shuffled the blanket, to mask the squishy sound of fingering herself. It didn’t occur to her that any of the other girls in the room might also be pawing their pussies, consciously or unconsciously. It was hard to think of anything except the feeling that she was just a freak jilling one out in her softball clubhouse during sleepy-time.
“Ohhhh, Melly-belly,” she smile-mouthed. She shut her eyes and conjured her beloved to mind. She liked to summon fantasies of Melleny the way she’d looked in 2013 when they’d first met, with bangy tendrils half-covering her indigo-shadowed eyes. Lately, Mel’d been sporting dresses rather than jeans, mascara instead of eyeshadow, and styling her hair a bit differently. This look suited Sara just as well, and she wouldn’t lead Mel to believe otherwise. She loved her either way, but had to admit those wispy bangs and that indigo eyeshadow devastated her.
“Sara-diddle…” she imagined Melleny addressing her with a double-meaning innuendo. She quietly giggled.
“Yes, ma’am!” she nodded, arching her back just as during their first exercise session. Imagining her hand was Mel’s, she burrowed into her autolubed cunt, sending exquisite loose sparks all over herself. As everything began to accelerate, fantasy-Mel climbed into Sara’s bunk and draped her hot, randy body. Sara’d always been pretty awesome at this fantasizing thing, and only got better with experience. Lots of folks were merely good at fantasizing; Sara Jane Kelton raised it to an art form.
She definitely hoped everyone was sound asleep now. She writhed on her mattress, pinching her tits one by one as she dug and clawed into her drenched pussy. The invisible Mel shifted further up on her, infusing Sara with a supplementary dose of warmth. Just as if Melleny’d really been there, Sara began sweating, struggling to keep her moans whisper-level. Digit-banging herself made Sara feel extra naughty here in the company of all these other younger girls. This only strengthened the hot-‘n’-kinky factor. Being caught would be an all but literal nightmare, but knowing just that she could get caught blazed her so white-hot she wanted to scream.
Hee hee…I love being bad by myself. Talk dirty to me, Mellywell.
“Yes…yes. Ravage that dirty little cunny for me, Saragraph.”
Sara obliged. God, yes, sweetie…more, please, more.
“Grab your titties. Light your pussy on fire and melt it like wax for me, Saraffin.”
Sara’s head flew to the pillow again, tossing sandy hair over her wet hot American face.
AAAAAAAAAAAHHH! OH GODDESS, MELLENY, DON’T STOP NOW!
“I’m gonna force you to keep jilling off, Saraphernalia. And I’m gonna thrust my middle finger in your lovely ass, and d.p. you till you can’t stand it anymore.”
Sara left the ground, no longer able to discern how close to the edge she was. Stars and fireworks crashed over her. She felt her eyes spin like a slot machine. It could be broad daylight outside and she’d have seen nothing but a psychedelic rainbow. She focused hard enough to feel Mel’s fingertip tickle her asshole, and her cunt started to cum. Indeed, she was at the edge, needing just the little extra to send her over. Her fantasy received one final message as her orgasm began firing. Before her mind’s eye, Mel suddenly transformed. She grew taller, her hair went fiery. And her voice changed.
“Hey, old lady. How’s your pussy like my Fireball??”
Sara’s eyes snapped open. Did…did she just see and hear what she thought she did??
She was afforded no time to think about it. Her orgasm was already fully underway, and she couldn’t stop it if her life literally depended on it. She ecstatically rode it out, silently screeching to the end, clenching her thighs, hand in between. She couldn’t function rationally, but if she could, she would’ve heard her pussy veritably laughing at her.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!! I told you, Sara! I told you I’d make you do it!
The little cunt had tricked her. She’d lured Sara right into her trap. It was Little Sara’s plot all along. The first time she’d met Staycie Dunheuser, her pussy’d woken up. The encounter had no effect on her brain or heart, but her libido operated a little differently. And when Staycie teased her by calling her “ol’ biddy” or “grammy,” and spanked her on the ass, Sara did feel a slight twitch on the other side. The butt slap was of course a teammate gesture, but brought on more weight than intended. Now without Mel around, Sara’s pussy was starting to ache for her to jill off, so she could pull this stunt on her owner. And force Sara through a skyrocketing orgasm, with Staycie as the launch fuel.
Sara lay awake a bit longer that night, wondering what to make of this. Should she feel guilty? She couldn’t go back and not do it, but she didn’t exactly have all mental control in the matter either. Her mind, heart and soul had a bit more sense of right and wrong than did her hormones, and…she decided to forgive herself. She had not cheated on Melleny. Sara should know better than anyone, fantasizing wasn’t infidelity. No one could outlaw fantasy. Heck, for all she knew, Mel too thought about others while making love to Sara, or to herself. Someone else only in one’s mind wasn’t wrong.
Just go to sleep, she advised herself as her eyelids grew heavy. It’s out of our system now. Another couple days, we can go home—at least temporarily—hold our girlfriend, and make all the glorious love to her we want. Just go to sleep.
Suck It, Sierra Mist!
Sunday, March 6th, 2016, 9:22 a.m.
Hell Week was over and done with. The twelve official 2016 Sprites had been chosen from the ranks. And amazing herself more than anyone, Sara Kelton was one of them.
Sunday was a free day. There was no game, and as a reward for making it, Darcy’d granted them the day of rest to just do that if they so desired. Or whatever else they wished. They could play a few casual innings, stay in and relax, or take a trip to their favorite store or restaurant. It was their own personal vacation day, following a few announcements that needed to be made.
“Sara…Sara!” She felt herself being gently shaken awake.
“‘Mel’? No, no, Sara, it’s me, Marcie. Wake up, wake up!”
Sara blinked open and focused. It was Marcie Pishdal, one of her…teammates?
“M-Marcie?” she said, sitting up. “But…but, I thought you were…”
“Well, I was…” replied Marcie. “Or at least I was going to be. But…”
She paused. Before she could go on, they heard Adair’s whistle.
“Good morning, ladies,” she called. “Congratulations to each one of you, and welcome to the 2016 Minnesota Sprites.”
The dozen girls cheered with applause.
“Now…” Adair waved a hand. “…Now, I’m afraid, however, I’ve got some unfortunate news. As you may or may not know, midwestern division regulations state that official rosters cannot be finalized until teams have been narrowed to their chosen players. And until such time, said players are essentially free agents. Up to the point of becoming official Sprite personnel, they reserve the option to resign, or sign with another team.”
The twelve girls looked around at one another, exchanging general murmuring. For the first time, Sara noticed something.
“This being said, team, I regretfully inform you that Staycie Dunheuser has been offered acceptance to the Madison Longhorns…and taken their offer.”
The girls’ murmuring grew to normal conversation level, overall nonplussed. Staycie was and would no longer be part of their team. It was really quite a bit of a blow. Staycie was a cool person, pretty nice, skilled, with integrity and morale to lead the Sprites on the field. She’d urged them to hustle and do their best. She’d motivated them. She was good for the team. But now, inexplicably…she was on the other side. She had signed with the Longhorns. The Minnesota Sprites’ sworn adversaries.
Sara’s eyes grew in concern. She whipped her gaze to Marcie, who too looked alarmed. This was indeed what Sara’d noticed: Staycie wasn’t here. And Marcie was. Yesterday Marcie Pishdal was the last player to be cut. But now with Staycie out of the running, Marcie’d been kept in and added to the roster. Sara was glad for her, liking Marcie and her company, but shared in the atmosphere of apprehension. The girls knew they’d be up against the Longhorns if they were going all the way this season. The Longhorns were good. And so was Staycie. She really was an ace pitcher. Some of the girls thought Staycie’d be their big advantage going up against their enemies. Their secret weapon. But she was now one of them. This didn’t look good for the Sprites.
“Well, so, Coach, what are we gonna do?” asked Patty, one of the younger girls.
“Well, for starters, Miss Dimberg, you’re our new ace pitcher,” Darcy answered. “Staycie’s a rightie, and you being a southpaw can work a bit to our advantage. Most batters are also gonna be righties, who aren’t always used to facing leftie pitchers.”
“Yeah, but, Darce,” chimed in Lesley, another teammate, “I think what she means is, do you really think we can beat them without Staycie? I mean, clearly they’re gonna use her against us. And she knows us. She knows our strengths and weaknesses.”
“Good point, Miss Walker,” said Darcy. “I won’t lie; your unease is well-founded. Staycie Dunheuser is an ace pitcher for a reason. That arm of hers is damn fierce. You’ve all seen it; I need not elaborate. Now, no team nor player’s omnipotent, ladies. No one human being is invincible. Yes, we’ve been dealt a blow, but we can’t allow this to break our spirit. We can still win this title. We will hit that field with our heads held high, and give our all. And no matter the outcome, we’ll be walking away with honor.”
Her words had the desired effect. The girls became fired up and cheered.
“That’s what I like to hear, Sprites! While losing one of our troop’s unfortunate, it doesn’t change what I told you at the start. I still wanna see that determination in your eyes. I still wanna see that heart in your gameplay. I want you all to feel like winners, already, all twelve of yas. I’m proud of you guys. You are the official 2016 Minnesota Sprites.”
Another round of celebration. Adair produced a laminated document.
“And it is with this in mind I give you our team roster…” She pinned it to the bulletin board, held up one finger, disappeared a moment into her office, and returned with a box. The girls’ eyes widened with excitement as they noticed what was inside.
“And of course, one for everybody, of…” She unfurled a jersey to show them. “These!”
The beautiful jerseys were met with equal approval. Each was speckled across the front with an image of a half-human, half-elvin forest sprite wearing a ball cap, with the team name framed around it. The backs were printed with each player’s last name and uniform number. Once each was claimed, Darcy made one final announcement.
“And not least but last!” she boomed, clapping her hands. “One more gift, before you go enjoy your free day!” She trotted back into her office once more, returning this time with a full cooler. “On behalf of our sponsor, you may now…” She popped the top.
“…Obey your thirst!”
The cooler was loaded—fittingly and foreseeably—with a dozen twelve-ounce bottles of Coca-Cola’s famous lemon-lime soda, in ice water. And just when the girls thought their gratitude had reached the maximum point.
The Girlfriend Cummeth
Sunday, March 6th, 2016, 12:28 p.m.
Sara sped home in the car, belting along with the stereo until her voice went hoarse.
“I MADE IT!!” she rasped, bursting through the door.
Melleny was sitting on the floor and blanket with a burrito and the TV remote, watching a game show. She turned to see her.
“I made the team! I did it! I’m a Sprite!” Sara cried. “My number’s 34 and I’m short stop!”
Mel gasped in elation. “Oh my gosh, sweetie, that’s fantastic!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet. “Congr—”
This time she didn’t even get as far as the second syllable. Sara all but leapt on her, tackling her onto the couch.
“OH, thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!” Sara exulted, smothering her in kisses. “My honey bunny, my heart, the love of my life, I owe it all to you.”
Mel laughed. “W—…babe, what’re you talking about?” she asked. “I wasn’t anywhere near you this week!”
“I know, I know,” Sara explained. “But in a way, you kinda were. See, every time I felt like giving up, or like I didn’t have any drive or energy left, I thought of you. And your love texts kept me going. They were so encouraging. And I thought, if I gave up…I might let you down. Or, let down that sexy-as-hell drill sergeant in you!”
Mel melted. “Oh, darling!” she chortled. “You oughta know better than that. Nothing you do could ever let me down.”
“No, I know, I know. I’m just saying, you really did give me that last little push I needed to make it all the way.”
Her eyes softened and narrowed to a seductive stare.
“And, eh…speaking of ‘all the way’…”
Melleny’s brows arched. She saw where Sara was headed. And she liked this direction.
“…Oh?” she inquired.
Sara nodded. “I, um…I thought a lot about that ever so charming drill sergeant you made yourself into the first time we exercised,” she cooed. “And…I found her hot.”
“Aha…so my plan worked, did it?”
Sara smirked, batting her smoky hazel eyes. “Sweetheart, your benefits for me were twofold. Not only did the exercising help my performance physically…but, eh…” She caressed a finger along Mel’s arm, flipping her eyebrows.
Melleny tingled. “…Yes?”
Being her quirky self, Sara looked about. As if to make sure no one was listening, even though they were alone in the house. The coast was queer. She leered and finished.
“…I’ve never been so damn turned on in my life.”
Mel wet herself. Her pussy leaked. The shameless declaration turned her on like veritably never before. Sara’s grin spread.
“And I’m gonna take you to bed and work you to the bone now…ready or not.”
After a Sara-less week of no sex, snuggles or lady companionship, Mel felt it safe to say that yeah, she was ready. So in a bold impulsive mood, Sara reached under, and lifted Melleny off the sofa with her newly built muscles. Literally swept off her feet, Mel felt enchanted. She laid both arms around Sara, and her head in her cushioning breasts. They got to the bedroom. Sara let her down on the mattress and crawled in beside. Mel reached out her arms, and Sara settled in to make Melleny Hayes glad she was hers.
Ten minutes of intense Frenching in, the girls ceased for breath.
“Mmm…tell me what you wish me to do to you, Madame Hayes,” Sara requested.
Mel chuckled. “Right, quite,” she whispered, affecting a British accent. “You may stawt by mass-aging me shoulduhs.”
“Anything for my queen.” Sara was glad she had the whole day free. She wanted to be thorough, making this as enjoyable a rubdown as possible for the gal who usually performed them herself. This was a wonderful shot of foreplay before getting down to business. She could see her love dove, Madame Hayes of the Baskervilles, becoming visibly, increasingly excited. Especially as Sara inched down to her thighs.
Melleny slid her legs apart till she was spread-eagle, granting Sara full access. Sara stretched on her side, resting her head and cheek on Mel’s tummy. In one of her dresses, Sara had easy entry to her panties. She gave smooth strokes down her inner thigh, just barely grazing her bush. Mel wanted to guide Sara’s hand up into her wet, deprived cunt. But she didn’t want her hands to act without her brain’s permission, so she burrowed them in the mattress under her back. She then gave her head a flip, tossing her side-swept bangs over her eyes, preferring to see less and feel more.
When Sara felt she’d enjoyed enough foreplay, she reached for Mel’s panties and dragged them down. Melleny bent her legs and lifted her bottom. Sara slid them just past the knees and flipped up the front of her dress. There she was. The furry little friend she’d missed so much this week. And she could tell it’d missed her just as desperately. It was already warm and moist, yearning for the love only Sara could provide. And did she ever intend to provide.
She gingerly parted Mel’s burning labia, en route to the wet pink happy-land that lay behind. It was just as warm, wet and welcoming as she’d remembered. Sara folded her body into an accordion shape to reach with her mouth, started at the taint, and gave one long, slow, loving first lick to the top, her tongue brushing either pussy lip. She heard Mel gasp, moan and whimper—in that order. Each gush of thanks melted into the next. Sara resumed, repeating from bottom to top, pausing only to produce more saliva. She watched with attentive peeled eyes, as Melleny’s clit grew and hardened, gradually bulging from under its hood. Time to switch up her game.
Sara pulled back the skin, transferred her delicate licks to Mel’s throbbing red clit, and worked into her cunt until she could squeeze in three digits. Melleny’s preference was the more, the better. She loved to draw Sara’s multiple fingers in deeper, clench them, and let the good times roll. Sara smiled jubilantly as she heard her girl cry in desperate passion. They would both relish this. Clit erect and ready, Sara began to suck.
Melleny’s eyes popped open as the hot erotic waves swallowed her. She screamed through them, willing this time to last forever. What made her heart grow fonder did the same for the libido. Mel’d not pleasured herself since Sara’d been away. But then, she’d also not spent the week with a cadre of younger women, bunking, sweating, showering in their company. Which sounded naughty when Sara thought about it. Still, she’d done nothing wrong. But even so, she couldn’t help wondering if Melleny, during their acts, did in fact ever fantasize about someone else. But she wasn’t prepared to ask, or to divulge to Mel that she’d orgasmed to her (former) teammate Staycie Dunheuser.
Besides, her mouth was busy right now. She went on sucking Mel’s clit, thrusting three right fingers into her cunt, spreading them to divide and conquer. The next moments were spent at a slow clip. Then Sara worked her up to a quicker pace, not to forget that Melleny did like it pretty wild and raucous. She moderated speed, but could barely wait to bring it on up to the maximum, and make her go insane.
Melleny, who really could lie here and stay like this for all eternity, struggled to stay still. Oh, how she had craved this. Oh, how she’d missed it. Since she’d found and fallen for Sara, making love to herself held less fascination—unless done with Sara’s hand. So she’d refrained from sexual release this week, knowing it would be well worth it when Sara got home. And damn, was she right.
Sara had only in mind to come home and please Mel. If Mel wished to reciprocate, Sara wasn’t about to put up a fight. But as far as she was concerned, it was all about Mel. She owed her. Mel’d helped make this dream of hers come true. She was a real, official softball player now, due in large part to her girlfriend. True, she was the one who’d gone out there and made it happen, but Melleny helped make it possible to make it happen. And what better way to say thank you, after all, than a little pussy worship.
She could hear that Mel whole-heartedly agreed, screeching herself hoarse. She could swear her brain exploded. Stray hair pasted her helplessly gasping, grimacing face. She glimpsed the dinosaur stickers on Sara’s ceiling, and through her hazy vision interpreted them as colorful cum splatters. This put her in mind of zero-gravity space, which she felt as if she were spiraling through. She was no longer bound to Earth’s concrete laws. She could float free, liberated to grace the orgasmic portal Sara guided her towards.
Her mind spun, shaken by yet another series of tingles and jingles, goodness and joy. Soon the cumulative whirlwind would be more than she could handle, which meant only one thing: the big impending ‘o.’ She thought she should signal Sara it was cumming—quite literally—but didn’t think she could locate the means. Besides, having been with her over two years now, Sara was astute enough to pick up on her climactic patterns.
“AAAAAHHH! AAAAAAHHHH! AAAAAAAHHHHH! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!! SAAAAAARRR-AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!” Mel howled. Sara just went about her business, cool as a cucumber, grinning with satisfaction at her finesse. That’s it, scream my name.
If her dynamic caterwauling wasn’t evidence enough that she was hitting the big one, what happened next certainly was. Melleny’s limbs locked in place…fingers and toes outspread…as her cum monstrously blasted out of her.
Sara felt the effect, and counted the seconds following. Ten was her cue. Mel was done, and her clit would feel sore and tender if sucked on anymore. Melleny was a fragile flower, emotionally and sexually, and needed time post-sex to let the oversensitivity go away. Her head lolled to the side on her pillow, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Sara let herself down on the bed, pranced to the loo, returned and climbed back in with Mel. Her girlfriend was still wearing her purple dress, which concealed a lot, but anyone could tell what she’d just been sent through. Sara watched her as she drifted to slumberland, the most beauteous, wondrous creature she’d ever seen or met.
“I love you too…Melleny Alison Hayes.”
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2016, 11:10 a.m.
Two weeks later. Sara’d cut a deal with Team, Inc. that if she made the Sprites, they’d supply her with a laptop so she could continue working remotely while on the road. She was highly grateful, and flattered her employers thought enough of her to let her work this way. The team was turning in an equally impressive performance thus far. Adair’s pep talks and arduous team drills were paying off. Of their first six games, the Sprites had won five. The other ended in a 5-5 tie. Technically, they remained undefeated.
They’d yet to play the Longhorns, or to play a game in their own hometown. But before they knew it, the day had come for both events. March 22nd would be the teams’ first showdown, with Juniper hosting. If they could win—or tie—this game, it would bode well for the season. The girls relaxed around the clubhouse this morning, resting up before the bout. One girl was teaching a few others how to meditate and find their centers.
Sara was craving some fresh air. She meandered to the field, having a seat in front of the dugout. She was nervous, she had to admit. Her friends and loved ones had taken the day off for this occasion. Jake and Mel would be here, as well as their folks and Sara’s own. Sara wanted to make them proud, even if she knew they already were.
There was that voice from behind her again. Sara turned her gaze back to see…
The former Sprite and current Longhorn pitcher shrugged. “One and the same.”
Sara stood and reversed her short course.
“…What’re you doing here?”
“Doing here?” Staycie made a thoughtful face. “Well, first and foremost, boasting entrance into this world via my Mama’s delivery chute back in ’90…” she mused. “And it wouldn’t be much of a game without a pitcher out there.”
Sara made a face of her own. “No, no, I mean…the game doesn’t start until 1:00.”
“Ah, yes.” Staycie blew on her nails, pretending she hadn’t known what Sara was talking about. “Well, y’see, Kelts…kinda just thought I’d see how you were doing today.”
She smiled cordially. Somehow, this struck Sara suspicious. As if by being nice, Staycie was trying to put her off her game, literally and figuratively. Well, if this was the case, she’d underestimated. Sara had something else in mind to discuss. She stared at Staycie for a few silent moments, letting the disapproval come through in her eyes.
“…Why’d you do it, Staycie?” she finally asked. “Why? You just walk out on us like that, without so much as a goodbye? I woke up, you were gone. You didn’t even tell me. I…I thought we were friends, Staycie. I thought we had a camaraderie. That we were gonna be in this together. But never mind me; what about the others? I mean, what so great about the Longhorns that you’d give us up and move an entire state away?”
Staycie shrugged matter-of-factly once more, missing hardly a beat.
“Damn simple, really; they’re interested in offering me a career in the bigs.”
Sara’s eyebrows arched. “You mean…”
Staycie nodded proudly. “You got it, ol’ lady: NPF. Our manager’s got an in with the Chicago Bandits. If my record’s good enough this season, they wanna have me tryout.”
This revelation provoked a spectrum of reactions in Sara’s mind, corresponding to her various moods—from “Wow! Oh my gosh, that’s great! Good for you, Stayce!” all the way to “Well, that is a big opportunity, but I still don’t think you should’ve run out on us the way you did.” Before she could decide which one to voice, Staycie went on.
“However,” she continued, “I was there with you guys when you tried out, and I can vouch; you did a hell of a job. You deserve to be on that team. So…”
She sucked air through her teeth, as if trying to work past a bit of awkwardness.
“I also wanted a word with ya in private, to, eh…throw out something of a proposition.”
Sara hadn’t a clue what she could be alluding to, but was willing to listen.
“Y’see, you and your girls know what a longstanding rivalry our teams have,” Staycie began. “And not to toot my own horn, but ya also know how good I am. I understand how much a victory over the Longhorns means to the Sprite legacy, and especially to Adair. So here’s what I’s thinkin’.”
Staycie took a step closer, and coyly but slyly smirked.
“While I am not prepared to throw the game…I might just be willing to, uh, go a little ‘easy’ on you guys, and especially you, Kelts…if you agree to come tonight to the Holiday Inn where I’m staying, on Berrywood and 17th…
“…And sleep with me.”
Sara gaped at her, eyebrows positioned completely differently from the way they’d been a moment ago. She tried to process what she’d just heard—if in fact her ears weren’t playing a gag on her. Staycie could not have been serious. Sara had told her all about Mel. She’d brought her up numerous times during the short while they hung out. In fact, other than their mutual love of softball, Mel was just about all Sara talked about! What could possibly make Staycie think Sara would even consider such a disgraceful offer?
Finally, Sara dropped her brows into a disdainful glower, and shook her head.
“Staycie Dunheuser, that is not funny.”
Staycie cocked her own head just an inch. “I’m sorry?”
Um, Sara? came the little voice from between her legs. May I have a quick word?
Sara continued, her tone escalating. “If that’s supposed to be cute or charming, it’s not. That is in truly sick taste. If that’s your idea of initiating things, I frankly feel sorry for you. You are repulsive for having the balls alone to ask me to do such a thing. You run out on the team and then expect me to betray them?? I wouldn’t sell out the Sprites for a billion dollars. But forget that! Just supposing I were the kind of person who’d do something so sleazy and disgusting. Leaving aside for just a second your sheer arrogance and temerity, did you just completely forget about my girlfriend??”
Staycie held innocent focus on her, barely fazed. “…Is that a no?”
Sara? her pussy repeated. Can we talk?
Sara fake-laughed in utter causticity, ignoring her little friend.
“I cannot believe you!” she exclaimed. “I just don’t even beli—…y—…you are the most self-indulgent, reprehensible…insane person I’ve ever met! How dare you even think I’d debase myself and my team—not to mention make a mockery of my relationship—for any reason?!” She scoffed, unable to swallow something so despicable, not to mention downright ridiculous. Staycie hadn’t much integrity after all. She really was lower than Sara could’ve guessed. After all this, her dismission had barely any impact.
“Very well,” scowled Staycie, clearing her throat. She evidently found it hard to swallow that Sara—or anyone—would turn down the chance to have sex. Devoid of scruples as Sara sensed, she was wounded and indignant at the rejection, and magnitude thereof.
“In that case, I wish you a lot of luck in the game today…’cause you’re gonna need it.”
She turned up her nose and began walking away. Sara didn’t wish to let her have the last word in the matter, however.
“Oh yeah??” Sara called after. “Well, joke’s on you, young lady, ’cause I’d rather lose with integrity than win by prostituting myself!”
She waited until Staycie disappeared, then returned to the clubhouse. She acted natural sifting through her teammates, and slipped into Coach Darcy’s office in the back (hoping no one noticed the slight wet spot in the front of her pants).
Adair looked up. “Ya need something, Miss Kelton?”
Sara shut the door. “Yes, Darcy. I need to talk to you, in private.”
“…And There Isn’t Any In Softball, Either!!”
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2016, 12:54 p.m.
Sara didn’t yet want her teammates to know what happened, and Darcy agreed. They had an important game to play, and needn’t weigh down the girls’ minds. But Darcy assured Sara she’d done the right thing by coming to her. Again, the game was imminent, and there was no time for any sort of action. But this was serious. This was sexual harassment. And they weren’t prepared to let Miss Dunheuser get away with it.
Sara was so consumed with this turn of events, she forgot about her family and friends until they arrived. Sara chose as well not to tell her loved ones of Staycie’s advances, for basically the same reason. They were here to enjoy the game, not to be sucked into Staycie’s web of manipulation. She stole a chance to greet them before they took their spots in the bleachers. Melleny was the last to go and sit after Sara talked to her.
“Oh my gosh, I am so happy you guys came!” she told Mel. “Thank you!”
“Aw, sweetie, we wouldn’t miss it for the world!” Melleny smiled.
Sara suddenly sniffled, feeling something tug at her heartstrings.
“I know…I know. You guys are the best. You all really do love me. I…erm…” She gulped. “I dunno what I did to deserve you.”
Mel’s face softened.
“Are you crying?”
Sara chuckled sheepishly, looking down as she swiped at her eyes.
“Are you crying??”
Sara began laughing through her approaching tears. She knew where this was going.
“I know! I know!” she nodded, holding up her hand.
“Do not make me go all Tom Hanks on you, rookie!” Mel grinned, pointing a finger.
“I won’t. Now kiss me. Just don’t make me go weak in the knees.”
“I can’t promise that, Sara.”
They locked lips, holding paws. Wherever she was, Sara hoped Staycie saw this kiss.
And she hoped it made her crawl.
Chevys And Rockys
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2016, 1:00 p.m.
“Play ball!” shouted the ump. The Sprites headed to their positions for the top of the first. Patty Dimberg took the pitching area. The leadoff Longhorn, a rightie named Terri Cooke, stepped in the batter’s box. Patty knew she preferred pitches on the outer half, so she’d pitch to this girl dense and tight. She wound up, windmilled, whipped the ball, and Terri swung. The ball fouled off behind her for strike one. The game was underway.
Sara watched the first inning unfold from short, midway between second and third. She of course had some moments to shine in previous games, both on offense and defense. But once again, this was the first time she’d be playing for her own few fans. After the first out, the Longhorns drove a base hit to right, putting a girl on first. She advanced to second when the following batter hit a grounder. The Longhorn who came to bat next laid down a bunt, which went right Sara’s way. Here came her first play. The runners raced to second and third. Sara trotted up a few steps, planted her feet, scooped up the ball and flipped it to second. Her teammate Shelly at second caught it in time, then threw to first. Lesley Walker caught the ball at first base, just before the bunter reached it. The fans cheered. Double play!
The side was retired, and the Sprites were up. Once the Longhorns took the field, Sara noticed that curiously enough, Staycie was not pitching. Perhaps they were saving her for later innings. Leading off was another pal of Sara’s called Linny, who fielded beside her at third. She missed the first pitch, then sent a line drive to right center.
Sara was fifth in the order, so she had a bit of waiting to do. With as much current and classic pop culture as she’d accumulated in her thirty years (which was quite a bit) she began thinking of the game as an action movie, with a soundtrack of driving rock music. An old song she’d heard recently—“American Heartbeat” by Survivor—served the setting well. It came out a few years before she was born, at the same time as the band’s Rocky anthem “Eye Of The Tiger.” Both in fact could dynamically capture the game’s key moments. Sara played them in her head as she watched.
“The night’s alive with wind and fire/We telegraph our hearts’ desire/Through the night with our eyes…/Wheels are turning fast and hard/Hearts are burning on the boulevard/Hear them pound, young and proud/It’s the American heartbeat!”
“It’s the eye of the tiger/It’s the thrill of the fight/Rising up to the challenge of our rival/And the last known survivor/Stalks her prey in the night/And she’s watching us all with the eye…of the tiger!”
The Sprites were put out to end the first inning. The second played out similarly, with several batters—including Sara—making it on base, but not back home. There was still no score until the top of the third. The Longhorns got hot with a series of base hits, finally sending one of their girls to home plate to take the lead: 1-0. Fortunately for the Sprites, they were able to hold off the Longhorns from scoring any more runs this inning. Unfortunately, they themselves could not tie things up.
It seemed the Longhorns had been only warming up till now. Inning four gave them their second run. Again, Minnesota held them to only this one, but now trailed by two. In the bottom of the fourth, Sara got her next at bat. She sent a fly ball to left, which the left fielder leapt and caught with an amazing grab. The Sprites came yet closer, but were allowed still no official runs. The Longhorns were living up to their reputation.
The game was now just past the halfway point. Inning five followed, the Longhorns batting through the bottom of their order. This was a small break for the Sprites, who got the next three outs with little trouble. The score was still 2-0, but this time with one not so minor change. Sara was correct in her earlier theory, she noticed: the Longhorns had unleashed their new big gun. Staycie assumed the pitching area. Sara watched with growing dismay as two teammates were struck out. The third got lucky with a base hit, but was herself snuffed taking too big a lead from first.
Two innings from defeat, the Sprites were getting fatigued. Madison poured it on to open the sixth. After two outs, the catcher slammed a monstrous homer out of the park. No one was on base, but the lead was opened to 3-0. Sara kept herself energized by imagining more rock songs playing in the background. With the first to come to mind being early ’80s tunes, she started whipping up a whole ’80s soundtrack to put to the game. With the typically invigorating synth music as in some of her favorite films like Major League, The Karate Kid, or even Vision Quest. Seeing her fellow Sprites growing discouraged, she tried to psyche them back up. There was still one inning left.
“Come on, you guys!” she told those around her. “Remember what Darcy said! Determination in our eyes! Heart in our gameplay!”
The Sprites were unable to get anything going in the sixth inning either, but finally agreed that Sara was right. There was still some pride and stamina lurking in each of them. And they were going to channel it into this last inning, and give it everything they had. They were still undefeated, and weren’t going down without one hell of a fight.
Each took a deep breath, summoned her second wind, and took her fielding position for the seventh and final time. With a great arm that didn’t quit, Patty was still pitching. Her windmill motion continued to serve well, packing much-needed speed and accuracy. She struck the first batter out. The second fouled outside first base, and Lesley caught it for out number two. Batter three was the same hitter who’d driven in the go-ahead run in the third inning. She whacked a fierce grounder between short and third. It got by Sara and Linny, rolling into left. A swift runner as well, she rounded first with no hesitation, kept going and slid safe into second. The Longhorns were threatening again, but their runner got cocky. Leading off second, she waited until Patty went into her windup, and attempted to steal third. The fourth batter swung and missed. The catcher nabbed the ball, fired a quick throw to Linny, and the base-stealer was arrested.
Bottom of the seventh. The Sprites congratulated Patty on a terrific game as she sat to let her south-paw rest. Marcie Pishdal, final in the order, stepped into the box, tapped the plate and took some swings. With three outs to go, the Sprites still had three runs to make up. As Marcie faced Staycie, she couldn’t help but have mixed feelings. She felt as resentful as did the other Sprites towards Staycie for abandoning them. But had she stayed, Marcie would not have made the team. Staycie had essentially given up her spot so that Marcie could play. And she intended to show what she could do.
Staycie windmilled and fired. Marcie swung with all her might and connected, pulling a line drive to left. She let the bat fly and sprinted to first as the left fielding Longhorn retrieved the ball, sending it the same way. Marcie ran as fast as she could and dove head-first, mere nanoseconds before the first basegirl caught the ball. Safe!
The Sprites and their allies in the stands cheered like crazy. They had the advantage. They had the top of the order coming to the plate. They remained behind, but having a runner on base kept hope alive. In stepped Linny.
Staycie was feeling vindictive. Knowing Linny was friends with Sara, she decided to send the lot of them a message. She wound, and served up a Windmill Fireball…straight at Linny’s head. Linny gasped and hit the dirt. Ball one.
The crowd booed. Half the Sprites leapt to their feet to storm the pitching area. But cooler heads prevailed. Linny got up, put her helmet back on, and steadied herself. Staycie leveled another close to her, high and tight. This pitch wasn’t close enough to nail her, but she didn’t dare swing at it either. “Ball two!” announced the umpire.
The Longhorns’ coach yelled something at Staycie. Her team grew antsy at her actions. She was being rash. She was risking the lead in trying to intimidate the Sprites. Staycie was losing patience with this girl. She threw her an outside curve next, hoping she’d swing and miss. But Linny caught her, and only check-swung. “Ball three!”
Staycie’s catcher caught the ball and threw it back with an aggression that seemed to say, “What the hell’re you doing?! Cut it out!”
Finally, Staycie got the message. Playing with this kind of fire was dangerous. If too careless, she could blow the lead. She took a breath and collected herself. It was time to stop messing around. She wound up and pitched, but let the ball go just a fraction of a second too early. With no strikes on her, Linny didn’t move.
“Low!” shouted the umpire. “Ball four; take your base!”
The crowd cheered. Linny tossed the bat and pranced down the baseline, as an equally pleased Marcie trotted to second. Next up was center fielder Violet Daniels. She let one outside pitch go by, swung and missed for a strike, and hit the next. Unfortunately, she clipped it from underneath, popping it straight up. The catcher nabbed it; she was out.
Lesley was next. She missed her first two pitches, but sent the third over Staycie’s head and the second basegirl’s as well. The Longhorns center fielder ran in. Linny and Marcie took off respectively for second and third, as Lesley booked it to first. The center fielder threw to second, needing a double play to end the game. But Linny had quite a set of legs on her as well. They carried her speedily to second, sliding to make contact with the bag just in time. Momentarily caught off guard, the second basegirl whirled around and threw to first, but Lesley was already there, safe and sound. The Sprites couldn’t believe it. The bases were suddenly loaded. With only one out. They had a chance!
Batter four was the Sprites’ right fielder, Steph Reed. The runners took their leads as she took the box. Marcie gazed at her batting teammate, wanting to jump the gun and steal home. She honestly thought she could do it, but didn’t think she should. There was a reason she’d been put on this team, and she couldn’t throw it away on a gamble. Staycie whipped a fastball. Steph swung and missed. “Strike one!”
Sara was getting nervous. She was on deck, and realized she’d be batting no matter what. If Steph was out, that’d be two, and the third out would be Sara’s. If Steph got a hit, however, the Sprites could score, keeping the bases loaded while closing the lead to 3-1, and the pressure would be taken off Sara. Oh, she hoped Steph got a hit.
UH-oh… Sara abruptly also realized this would be the first time she’d be facing Staycie. The first time in both of their young careers…and the first and only time, since she’d turned down Staycie’s crude advance. Please get a hit, Steph, pleeeeeease get a hit.
Whiff! “Strike three!”
Oh no. Ohhh, crap. The audience let out a collective “aw.” Steph woefully returned to the dugout. The Sprites gave her some hugs and words of encouragement.
Sara Kelton was up.
A few familiar voices behind her began chanting, trying to get the atmosphere fired up.
“Sar-a! Sar-a! Sar-a! Sar-a!…”
Their voices faded and swirled into a blur as Sara stepped to the plate. She rose her determined eyes to meet Staycie’s. Staycie was leering, trying to bore fear into her.
Don’t let yourself get frazzled, Sare, she told herself. Don’t get rattled ’cause you spurned her. What she did was wrong. Her. Not you. You’re not the guilty party here. Just remember what Darce told you, and what you told the girls. Take your own advice.
Staycie seemed to take forever to throw Sara her first pitch. There was the windmill, and here it came…a curve ball. Whiff! Dammit.
She heard a brief collective “aw,” followed by applause. “C’mon, Sara!” “You got this!” came her supporters’ voices.
Oh, hell… Sara thought, feeling dread descend upon her shoulders. That’s right…she knows I can’t hit a curve ball. I told her. Dammit dammit dammit.
Marcie extended her lead, now dying to steal home. Staycie grinned, eyes only on Sara. She delivered. Another curve. Whiff! “Strike two!”
Oh Goddess…help me…
Staycie was being deliberately spiteful for scorning and turning her down. She knew it, and Sara knew it. She was going to try and end this game with three pitches, one right after the other. And to make matters worse, Sara was feeling an uneasy sensation…
…Way down she-knew-where.
Not now, Little Sara, please, not now… She shook it off and focused on the batting advice Jake and her Dad gave her weeks back.
Let’s see…“back elbow up, dominant hand on top”…“feet evenly apart, step into the pitch”…“shoulders square, level swing”…“eye on the ball, watch for the possible break at the last moment”…
Staycie wound up. Sara’s heart began to pound. She thought she saw Marcie charging in from third out of the corner of her eye.
…“Watch for the pitcher’s timing…”
All sound died down. There was the windmill again…
“…Let the ball come to you…”
It all happened in slow motion, as Staycie finally released the ball…
“…And you’ll learn to sense just the exact right moment…”
The softball sailed through the crisp equinox air, like the dozens of times before…
“…It’ll get bigger and bigger, until you can’t possibly miss it.”
Sara blinked, concentrating like she’d concentrated on nothing before. To her amazement, the ball did seem to increase in size. Her mind went into action hero mode, as the imaginary rock music returned.
“The stage is set, the roles are chosen/The lights grow hot as the midnight’s closin’/In at last, it comes so fast/Pounding harder as the midnight’s striking/It hits us like a bolt of lightning/Deeper down, it’s the sound/Of the American heartbeat…”
She stepped into the pitch…gritted her teeth…watched, and allowed for the curve…
“Face to face, out in the heat/Hanging tough, staying hungry/They stack the odds, still we take to the street/For the kill, with the skill to survive/It’s the eye of the tiger, it’s the thrill of the fight/Rising up to the challenge of our rival…”
…And swung, with everything she had.
Sara gasped in astonishment at what she’d just made happen. She’d gotten a hit!
And not just any hit. She’d smacked it squarely, with all the strength one Sara Kelton could muster, sending it soaring on a beautiful 45° arc to left center. The ball rocketed over the infielders’ heads, as the left and center fielders dashed to the wall. But this ball…wasn’t, coming, down. Not until it cleared the track, cleared the back wall, still descending on its spiral, outside of the park…for a grand slam home run!
Sara suddenly found herself deafened in thundering cheers as she ran. She froze, no less than spellbound at what she noticed had happened.
She’d won the game.
She’d hammered a 400-foot homer with bases loaded, on the last possible pitch, to lay claim to the Minnesota Sprites’ long-overdue victory over the Madison Longhorns…4-3.
She rounded first and ran to second, chasing counterclockwise after Lesley Walker, Linny Cardell and Marcie Pishdal. And staking the game-winning landing upon home plate with both 7½-size cleats…before her teammates, coach, friends and family rushed the field to hoist her into the air, under the softball-shaped clouds.
It was their first game versus Madison, not the last. Sara hadn’t won the divisional title, nor would she be advancing to the bigs in the National Pro Fastpitch league. And all of that was fine with her. She was content to consider this one of the best days of her 30-year life, still young and spirited at heart. By no means too much of an “old lady” to play with the college girls. She wouldn’t deny there was some skill involved, but was first to agree that luck had a hand in winning her this game. Fortune was still smiling upon her, as she continued to seize the moments of her life. The chant echoed to the heavens.
“SAR-A! SAR-A! SAR-A! SAR-A!”