I found myself undoing my jeans and bringing my closer out in the first inning. If you’re in a playoff game, you might well start your closer, I reasoned. This felt like game seven in the World Series, so hell, yes, the closer was coming out early. I just prayed he had the stamina to remain in the game.
“Eek, a penis!” Lisa yelled and acted afraid.
Poor Manaia almost wrecked us.
The twinkle of mischief faded from her eyes and was replaced by something smoldering. Lisa scooted closer to me and pushed my hands to my side to signal that she was in charge right now. When she reached down and grasped my member, I became a willing participant. Lisa proceeded to roll the condom on me.
She placed her hand on the back of the seat, lifted her leg over me, and straddled my lap as her skirt streamed over my pants. In the past, Lisa hadn’t worn jeans or underwear because of skin allergies. That was why she’d asked about the non-latex condoms. I’ve no idea why she chose to go commando this evening, but I approved.
When Lisa came to rest, I was in heaven, with Mr. Happy snugly enfolded in her sex.
My hands reached for her hips to reposition her so I could get deep inside. Lisa slapped my hands away as she leaned forward. Our lips came together, and it tasted like summer. She’d just eaten cherry pie, and it brought back memories of picking them right off the tree and gorging myself. I wanted to do the same with her.
I groaned when her hips moved up and down and she rubbed against my package. Lisa was driving me insane.
“You’re about two seconds from me losing control,” I warned.
“I’d heard you were quick on the draw,” she teased.
Yep, time for me to fire all my security.
I let out a low warning growl like Duke would if one of the little ones had been actually hurting him. I smiled when Lisa stiffened, and it was like a raging river had been released all over my manhood. She slumped against me with her head on my chest. I took advantage of her momentary distraction to scoot her back enough that Mr. Happy could find paradise.
Lisa made a satisfied, grunting sound as I filled her. While she was a hottie, she wasn’t the most beautiful girl I knew; regardless, she just had something about her that got my motor running. The one and only time Lisa and I had hooked up, it had been even better than I’d expected. It was like our bodies were just meant to have sex together. I was a pleased boy when the second time was even better than the first.
◊◊◊
After we dropped Lisa off, Manaia drove me home. I saw the lights were still on in the house, so I walked in and found my mom sitting at the kitchen table with Angie.
“You stink,” Angie said to draw attention that I probably smelled like sex.
She could be an evil … witch … sometimes.
“Greg finally get smart and kick you out?” I shot back.
The look on Angie and my mom’s faces told me I wasn’t too far off the mark.
“Did he say something to you?” Angie asked.
I raised my hands.
“There’s no way I’m getting in the middle of whatever is going on. I’m going to bed,” I said as I turned and escaped.
◊◊◊
Chapter 27 – I Don’t Want to Know Saturday March 4
My morning run gave me time to think. It had been a busy week. The fallout from the Lang Academy game ended up causing some real pain. The rule book said that because the ejection occurred after play concluded, I had to sit out the next game.
Our state’s governing body privately told Moose that we had grounds to challenge the ejection. But they also said that technically, my actions in restraining the umpire might be considered fighting or aggressive physical contact. If that were the case, I would be ineligible for the team’s next
With that in mind, we didn’t fight my one-game suspension against Marshal on Thursday. Coach Hope got the honor of being the manager for the game because both Moose and Coach Haskins had to sit, too. We did manage to win the game 2–1.
I think someone must have had a word with the umpire who’d caused all this because he retired. It was the right move for him because we taped each game. The center field camera tape showed clearly that he had botched calling balls and strikes in the bottom half of the inning.
The popular theory circulating in the locker room—I think Yuri started it—was that he had it in for someone on the Lang Academy team.
Umpires at the high school level typically fell into one of two categories. The first were those trying to work their way up to umpire at higher-level games, like college or the minors. The second group did it because they loved the game. You had to, or the grief you received wasn’t worth it.
Regardless, it was just high school baseball. No one would make or break their baseball career based on one play or even one game at this level. So, in the big picture, it really didn’t matter.
