A Brand New Ball Game, Chapter 1

Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers

“Strike?” the blonde screamed. At me. With a really, really angry expression on her probably otherwise cute face. I glanced over at her only briefly. You never want to let the bleacher bums get to you when you’re an umpire.

I shifted my feet tentatively, the ache easing a little as blood flowed back into my stressed arches. Standing on my feet all day in a science classroom, then earning a little extra cash after school at a girl’s high school softball game, is neither a route to riches nor relaxation.

“Strike three!” I yelled with the next pitch, a fastball practically grooved down the center of the plate, as the batter stared dreamily at it.

“You fuc-” I heard, coming from the same part of the stands – no more than twenty feet away, and this time I stared intently, glared, really. You can yell at the ump, that’s an age-old tradition, but obscenities? At a girls’ game? That’s just not right.

“If I hear you using obscenities again, I WILL throw you out of the game, ma’am,” I said loudly.

The blonde looked to be about 35, cute for sure, especially since her face was now bright red, not with anger, but embarrassment. The brunette she was sitting with elbowed her, and laughed.

The game continued, the home team finally winning, and after the final out I began packing up my gear. There’s only one umpire for these games, so, other than a face mask, chest protector and me, there’s not much more to the officiating part. I signed the scorer’s account of the game, and carried my stuff over to a dinged up red convertible 2005 Mustang that I really do love, even more than my cat Scheherazade. She’s a little white persian.

After packing my gear away, I got in and started the car up, then drove through the unfamiliar parking lot to the exit. I turned a corner around a big-ass SUV just a little too sharply, and heard the shrill “skree” of metal rubbing on metal.

“Shit!” I said to myself, and got out to see what damage I’d caused. I’d clipped the fender on a new-ish looking SUV, leaving a short streak of red paint on it, but leaving it otherwise undamaged. There was a slight crease in the body of my car. As I inspected the dent, the driver of the other car got out – predictably, the blonde heckler, just a few inches taller than me, and a little more padded.

I braced myself for the expected “blind umpire” comments I was sure would soon arrive.

To my surprise, she was quite pleasant. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid I’ve made your day unpleasant again,” she began. She kind of shook her head, her long, curly hair breaking across her shoulders like the waves at Maui hitting the sand. Not that I’ve ever been there.

I looked at her curiously.

“You weren’t even moving,” I pointed out. “I hit you.”

“Yes, but look where I parked…see the line? I really have trouble with this big thing.”

“I admire your honesty,” I confessed. “It doesn’t look as though your car was damaged, do you see anything?”

“No,” she said, running a slim, bejeweled finger along the shiny chrome. She hesitated, then spoke.

“Look,” she said. “I feel as though it was my fault. Can I pay you to have your car fixed? I’d rather it didn’t go on my insurance.”

“Wellllll, I could use some help in fixing it,” I said. “On a teacher’s pay, even a small repair is a bit much.”

“Oh, where do you teach?” she asked, “here?” She looked at the modern school building at the other end of the lot.

“No, they don’t let us umpire games at the same school we work at,” I said. “I teach at St. Anselm’s.”

“Oh,” she replied. “My friend’s daughter goes here — well, I guess you probably figured something like that out. She was the one who struck out when…” her voice trailing off.

I laughed. “Yeah, I thought it was something like that. She seems like a fine young lady. But you maybe shouldn’t get so invested in your friends’ kids.”

“I can see some of my daughter in her — she’s in college. And I’m very proud of her.”

“I’ll be sure not to get in between you and your daughter,” I said, with a slight smile.

She looked confused momentarily, then quickly recalled the events during the game, and laughed. She hesitated.

Then she said, “Would you be interested in going to the local coffee shop for something? Just in case there are undetected injuries from our collision?” I had to laugh at her wry smile. She looked a lot nicer when she was smiling, than when she was cursing me. Her blue eyes sparkled, and her white teeth looked just about perfect. She must have come from a wealthy family to have everything all lined out like that.

“Okay,” I said. “As long as I get back home in time to feed my pussy.” She looked startled.

“My Persian cat, Scheherazade,” I said, laughing.

Let me make one thing clear. I’ve never thought I was gay. Yes, I’m single, never-been-married (and never really met the right guy), and while I think that most females tunceli escort have beautiful bodies, I’ve always been turned off by other women’s cattiness and even viciousness. My mother was a horrible, horrible person and I’ve just never trusted women. It is what it is. But I DO enjoy leading other women on, sometimes — not that I thought this one was lesbian either, or even bi — I guess I was just tired and felt kind of wonky, otherwise I’d never had made the dumb ‘pussy’ joke.

Without skipping a beat, the blonde finished. “I love Persian pussies. The long, silky hair, the way they purr when you stroke them…everything but their snotty attitude. Oh, by the way, I’m Beth. Beth Armbruster.” She held out her hand.

I reached out to shake her hand, and found it firm, strong and dry.

“Callie, Callie Wilkins,” I said.

When she held my hand a little longer than I expected, I found the azure of her eyes seeming to grow in intensity. “And I want to apologize so much for being rude during the game, and yelling expletives at you.”

“It’s okay,” I said, unable to take my eyes away from hers, and unwilling to let go from her touch. “You get used to it.”

“As beautiful as you are, I should think that you’d be used to compliments, not insults,” she said, sotto voce.

I was surprised, as I don’t think that I’m particularly beautiful — handsome, maybe, a little bit pixie-ish perhaps, as I’m petite, with short cut black hair, as I sometimes imagine Peter Pan would look if he were more openly a woman. But ‘beautiful’ I reserve for tall, buxom women with long blonde hair — someone like Beth.

“Um, thanks,” I said, now a little embarrassed.

Changing the subject, I said, “So, where is the Starbucks? Or should I follow you?”

“Oh, it’s not Starbucks,” she said. “We’re one of the few primitive parts of the state that Starbucks hasn’t gotten to yet. It’s a little family-owned place, called “The Daily Grind.”

“Cute,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Why is it coffee places make such dumb puns?” I shrugged.

“So, I’ll follow you…” I said, trying to get us started. I was interested in getting to know Beth a little better. A girl can always use another friend. We got in our cars and drove the five miles or so, to a cute little shop that had obviously been converted from a failed fast food restaurant.

Entering, as Beth held the door for me, I noticed that the shop was decorated in a soft, feminine style, with soothing, complementary colors, and hand-crafted knick knacks scattered throughout, on the walls and even on the tables. Beth found a two top and we settled in, as a young server came over to take our order.

I couldn’t help but notice Beth’s eyes linger on the teenaged girl’s small breasts inside her shirt. To be truthful, I suppose that mine did too, as the girl exuded a fresh, healthy glow and was very attractive, in a farm girl kind of a way. She was dressed in tight, faded jeans, and a blue-checked cotton blouse, the kind that family restaurants make their servers wear when they can’t get the red-checked ones. Her pony-tailed chestnut hair swung prettily when she turned.

“How are your classes going at college, Christine?” Beth queried.

The girl’s green eyes sparkled. “Dean’s List again,” she smiled, her even white teeth a counterpoint to her tan.

“That’s wonderful,” Beth said. She introduced the two of us, then Christine took our order and in a short time returned with our iced teas. I looked around, and noticed that the other customers were women, with the restaurant about three-quarters filled.

“I guess with the feminine atmosphere here, they don’t get many men,” I ventured.

“No,” Beth said. “Not many. But it’s nice to have a feminine refuge from male….stuff,” Beth finished, making a comical shrug, her shoulders moving up and down, as though juggling a set of balls.

We talked for perhaps two hours, and I found myself falling in, well, interest, with the attractive woman who, only hours before, had been screaming invectives at me. Incidentally, she kept apologizing for her previous behavior, although I continually assured her that I was fine with her initial apology, and had no intention of holding it against her.

I barely noticed that she had moved closer to me across the table, and I to her, our faces drawing nearer as though we’d both been struck with a creeping nearsightedness. Her skin was smooth, though slightly lined, small, almost invisible crows-feet at the corners of her blue eyes. Dimples, the residue of a lifetime of smiling and happiness, would occasionally appear at her mouth, drawing my eyes to her lips.

Her lips were plump, full and ripe, and a sweet shade of carmine. I wondered how they would feel under the tips of my fingers. Warm, and heated by her soft breath? Moist, with the humidity of her inner self keeping them supple and tender? Perhaps sweetly scented, that same sweet breath cresting tunceli escort bayan over those full, pink portals to her other mysteries…

I felt a tingle in my center, deep between my thighs, as I realized that I wasn’t visualizing my fingers on those lips at all, but my own lips, hungrily seeking more of her. More shockingly, I realized that I wasn’t imagining those lips before me, sweet as they were, but her nether lips being caressed by my mouth, and tongue.

A scent of strawberry, mingled with a woman’s fresh, earthy musk filled my nose – I realized my pussy was wet, and thrilling with a heretofore unknown desire…

“…I said, ‘a penny for your thoughts.'” Beth looked at me curiously, as I came back to reality. Her eyes were wide, and I thought I saw her moisten her lips with the tip of a delectably pink tongue.

“Oh, I was just mooning about,” I covered my momentary confusion with about as lame an excuse as I’ve ever come up with. Beth smiled.

“I wish I were in whatever place your mind was,” she said. “You looked positively orgasmic!”

I murmured something, I don’t know what, and I almost missed hearing Beth say quietly, “Why don’t we go?”

“Um, okay,” I muttered. As we walked to the door, I was stunned to feel her hand on my lower back, shepherding me along. Her hand burned through me, lighting my entirety on fire, and I knew that my poor pussy was now oozing with an unsolicited, but welcome, pleasure. When we passed through the front door, I turned to her, perhaps to make some excuse for my wooziness, and I felt her other arm slip around my waist, and her lips on mine, searing pleasure into me, as I felt, for real this time, the touch of another woman’s lips on mine.

I moaned, then slumped against her, acutely aware of the warmth and softness of her ripe breasts, punctuated by the hard points of her nipples pressing back into me. I didn’t know if others were looking at us – I didn’t care – as I sunk deeper into her embrace. Her tongue, at first tentative, then becoming bolder, slipped between my compliant lips, and danced with my own tongue, salivating as my body wetted itself for…what?

I had no idea. But I wanted it, badly.

“Oh, Beth,” I moaned.

“I had hoped,” she muttered. “Come.”

The temptation to say, “I’m sure I will,” was great, but as she pulled me along, I realized she had a different frame in mind for the portrait of my deflowering at the hands of another woman.

“In here,” she muttered roughly, as she nearly threw me into the spacious rear of her SUV. Moving a girl’s bag aside, I slid along the bench seat, turning apprehensively and excitedly towards her, as she momentarily filled the door opening, then closed it behind her, her body tantalizingly close to me.

“At last, alone,” Beth said melodramatically, and we both laughed.

“Beth, I never…” I began.

“Did anything with another woman? Don’t worry, honey, neither did I until somebody took pity on me.” She brought her face to mine and kissed me again, this time, much, much slower but just as hungrily. I was a little frightened at the ferocity of her approach to me, and of how it made me bubble up inside. It was a feeling I wanted more of, way more, but it also scared me immensely. I hardly knew what to expect.

Apparently my body knew what to expect, as I melted into Beth, our bodies conforming to each other’s warmth and femininity. The taste of her was sweet, a ripe juicy peach bursting nectar into my mouth, and a shiver of erotic pleasure coursed through me as I thought back to that vision of my mouth on her quivering pussy – oh god, if that happened I thought I might die with ultimate pleasure.

But for the time, there was the pleasure of foreplay with a woman. No hurry to get to the little death, the explosion of our souls – we could tantalize and tease each other – though I confess, I wasn’t entirely clear of how to tease a woman, I only knew what I liked, and what men previously had been able to use to capture my attention at these times.

Blessedly, Beth showed me the way. Through my growing ecstasy, I hoped to remember what she did.

Her fingers caressed my neck, soft threads of thrilling pleasure ran through me, as she murmured endearments, her soft, pink lips caressing my cheeks and throat, sharp teeth lightly nipping my tender flesh, reminders that a woman’s innate savagery can be a source of exquisite pleasure. Fingertips running along my hairline at the base of my scalp, short cut hairs bristling as skin of fingers woke them, then tingling lightly.

Her warm, softly scented breath ran down my throat as she nuzzled, then into the open collar of my blue shirt, and into my cleavage, a warm, moist blanket covering my full breasts. I heard and felt a soft cooing resound in the car, and realized with a start that it was from me. That was certainly a first, no man had ever yanked that response from me with his touch, so different from hers.

“Oh, escort tunceli Beth,” I moaned. She knew exactly what I was saying, one woman’s perfect interpretation of another’s bliss. Her fingers caressed my breasts through my blouse and sports bra, my nipples hard, and aching to be free for her touch.

“Mmm, delicious,” Beth teased, as she squeezed a nipple through the layers of fabric, hard nub of sensitive flesh desiring her touch, wanting to feel a woman being rough, so different than a man.

“Unngh,” I grunted, grabbing her hand, surprised at myself, and leading it under my blouse, into the spandex cup of my bra. My 36B tits aren’t the biggest, but, as boyfriends have said, they’re a mouthful. Beth didn’t hesitate, her fingers smoothly slid over my still firm flesh into the heat of the cup, where she grasped my nipple between thumb and forefinger, gently twisting, watching my face as she did so, gauging my pleasure.

I arched my back as she brought sweet, slight pain, and enormous pleasure, electric shock coursing from my nipple, through my midsection, straight to my clit. And with that, I came, came from a woman touching me, and nothing was ever the same again.

“Oh my god, god Beth! Oh, oh, fuck I don’t believe it, I came from you touching me there!”

Beth giggled. “If you cum just from me playing with your nipple, I think we’re going to have a LOT of fun together!” I just looked at her and sighed heavily.

“Okay,” I said, grinning, and we both burst out laughing. Beth hugged me again, and then we got down to it.

“Lay down, honey,” Beth said. “I want to fuck you so bad, ever since I saw your ass when you bent over to sweep off home plate. I could just picture my tongue up there, and taste your hot honey.” I squeezed my thighs together – god, she was making me so hot, I thought that there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.

Beth sat beside me as I lay on the bench seat, looking down at me as she unbuttoned my blouse. “Ooh, sweetie, I love your breasts, they’re perfect,” she said.

“There’s a closure on the back,” I hinted coyly, raising up on my elbows. Beth smiled. She reached under me, then unhooked the bra and lifted it away from my body and bunched it under my chin.

“Ohh, darling, your breasts are magnificent!” she exclaimed, a look of genuine admiration and lust in her eyes. She bent down again, and gently took a nipple between her lips, as her hands cupped my breast. She suckled softly, faint tendrils of ecstasy lining my nerve pathways, a quiet parade marching, inexorably, to the pleasure center between my thighs.

I felt moisture collecting at my labia, then trickling down along my perineum on its way to my ass hole. I could feel my anus twitching at the unexpected feel of creamy moisture there, and oddly, the sensation only added to my pleasure.

Beth’s soft, red lips were gentle on the wrinkled, tight flesh of my pink nipple, but her teeth were small wolverines nipping at my nubs. I was afraid that she might draw blood there, and I was simultaneously hoping that she would draw blood there. I was losing control of my body’s desires, and feared/hoped that this wonderful, beautiful stranger would demand something extreme — I knew that my body and heart would agree, whether or not my brain agreed.

Beth’s fingers ran up and down my sides as she suckled and fed, lightly tickling. Normally, I found tickling ‘nice,’ but a little obnoxious if it went on too long, but under her touch, all sensations were driving to my clit, and building there.

The touch of her fingertips, light and teasing, the feel of her lips, gentle and soothing, her nipping teeth, cruel and savage, her perfume, intoxicating and sweet, and the mixed sounds of her unsatisfied need and my own cascading delirium, were building, building, building inside of me, until I thought that my small, pink clitoris was a balloon filling with sensual anticipation.

I thought that I would explode, and I was very surprised when I discovered that her attention led me to a tantric sort of orgasm. Instead of the explosive release, followed by a sated tiredness, that I had experienced a few times with male lovers, I found that the pleasure beginning to course through me was building, like a tsunami wave growing ever higher and higher, slowly at first, then faster, washing away any inhibitions or doubts I might have had, and then remaining at a level leaving my body, mind and soul buzzing excitedly, and eager for even more.

“Aaah, fuck me, Beth,” I whispered excitedly. “Fuck my pussy, lick me, eat me whole, make me yours!” I had never responded to a lover like this, and in a small, still rational recess of my mind, I hoped that I wasn’t making a mistake.

Beth grunted, intent on acquiring all of my being, here in the back seat of her car. I had been fucked in many locations, by men, but never so well as in this auto.

Beth left off my nipples, then gazed at my hips. “Let’s see what pleasures you have for me here,” she said. “Are you wet for me?”

I nodded submissively.

“Tell me,” she whispered. By the tightness of her voice, I knew that this was the thing turning her on, and I was eager to help her in that way.

“Yes,” I whispered back. “I’m wet for you. My pussy is creaming, my sweet cum is trickling down to my ass…”