Casey At The Bat

by Poison Ivan

Copyright© 2001 by Poison Ivan

Erotica Sex Story: The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Mudville nine that day. And no wonder, with what Casey was up against in the final at bat of the game!

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   .

Casey spat into the grass in front of the dugout. Ten thousand patrons of the game mumbled quietly from the stands as Cooney took a few practice swings outside the batter's box. Barrows stood loosely in the on-deck circle, waving a leaded bat. Casey studied the scoreboard.

Visitors 0 0 1 0 0 0 0 1 2 4

Mudville 1 1 0 0 0 0 0 0 - 2

The string of Mudville goose eggs ran from the third inning all the way to the eighth, like a taunt. The young punk pitcher kicked at the dirt in front of the rubber. The boy's gray uniform was stained with sweat. He had pitched a good game up to that point, but Casey had noticed a loss of velocity on the boy's fastball. He was definitely hitable.

Casey scanned the crowd behind the visitor's dugout. They looked nervous and unsure. If only Casey could get to the plate, perhaps he could get this crowd back into the game. He noticed an attractive blonde sitting right next to the opposing dugout. She seemed to be staring right at him.

Casey stepped over to the bat rack as Cooney settled in at the plate. Cooney took a first pitch strike, then fouled off an outside curve. Casey grabbed his bat and squeezed the handle in his strong hands. Cooney lunged at the next pitch, sending an impotent ground ball towards second base. Off balance from the awkward swing, Cooney stumbled out of the box and almost fell on his face. He was thrown out by forty feet.

Absolutely pathetic.

Casey got a good hold of his bat in both hands. His spikes clicked on the concrete floor as he walked to the back of the dugout. He looked at the lineup card.

1. Barrows SS

2. Flynn LF

3. Blake 3B

4. Casey 1B

And only two outs to go. Flynn and Blake were offensive liabilities, both put in for defense in the top of the ninth. And that fucker Blake booted the easy groundball that let two runs score. Casey glared at the manager, who stared glassy-eyed out onto the field, chewing tobacco like an old goat. The son-of-a- bitch didn't know what the fuck he was doing. Blake? Why'd he put Blake in? And Blake was hunched over like he was about to puke on his shoes.

The sound of bat thwacking ball spun him around, only to see the shortstop gobbling up an easy two-hopper. Barrows gave it his all, sprinting full tilt. He was fast, but not that fast — he was out by a step.

Two down.

Casey noticed the blonde again, and this time he was sure of it: she was looking right at him. Her lips were red and her eyes were bright. A sprinkling of spectators headed for the exits, but there was still a look of possibility in the blonde's eyes. He thought he saw her mouth a single word: "Casey."

But there were two outs and Flynn and Blake to get through. The dugout was deathly quiet.

Casey couldn't bare to watch while Flynn took his place in the box. Flynn was a joke at the plate, and often couldn't hit a batting practice fastball out of the infield. Instead, Casey watched the blonde.

She looked back at him and they smiled at each other. She was better looking than most groupies, that was for sure. She licked her lips in a provocative way, and Casey felt a twinge of something in his pants.

There was a sweet "tock!" sound, and Casey looked back towards the field. The center fielder was running towards left, and when the ball hit the turf, a roar rose from the crowd. Casey crowded towards the front of the dugout with the rest of the team. The center fielder threw the ball in to second. Flynn stood safely on first base, an idiotic grin on his face.

Casey's heart accelerated as he scrambled up the steps into the on-deck circle. Blake walked slowly towards the plate while the umpire and catcher watched. But no one was watching Blake. Every eye in the house was on Casey. Casey dropped the lead donut over the end of his bat. He gave it a slow, easy swing.

Blake fouled off three straight pitches, the last a tip that barely popped out of the catcher's mitt. The game's goat then took a pitch up and in that almost hit him in the head. An "Ooo" from the fans filled the stadium.

Blake swung at the next pitch and amazingly sent a rocket line- drive into right field. Ten thousand spectators leapt to their feet and when the ball bounced safely off the fence, their thunder filled the arena. Flynn had stopped halfway between first and second to watch the flight of the ball, and he barely made it to third base - the son-of-a-bitch should have scored! But Blake chugged easily into second, and now the tying run was in scoring position.

The tying run was on second, and Casey was at the bat!

Casey tapped the handle of his bat on the ground and the lead donut fell to the ground. The blonde leaned forward in her seat. "Casey, Casey, Casey,..." her lips moved as Casey approached the plate. He wrapped his fingers around the handle of his heavy bat.

Not that Casey thought he'd get a chance to swing. Casey expected to be walked intentionally. Too bad Blake didn't hit just a single — then they'd have to pitch to him. But with first base open, there was no reason to put the game on the line pitching to one of the game's premiere hitters.

The catcher jogged out to the mound to talk to the young pitcher, and was soon joined by the coach and the entire infield. No doubt discussing the defensive strategy after Casey trotted with a free pass to first.

An electric hum filled the stadium. Casey looked at the blonde, who was only a few feet away now. She was a real beauty, wearing a short pleated skirt and a small white top that left her midriff bare. Seated in the front row, he could see her legs crossed, one over the other, her smooth, tan knees shining in the sunlight.

The visiting team conferred on the pitcher's mound, and Casey made eyes with the blonde. She smiled at him and leaned forward in her seat. Casey thought of walking over to her, striking up a conversation. He could ask if she wanted to see his bat and balls after the game. That one almost always worked.

Casey stayed put and adjusted himself. The woman just smiled and fingered her lips. And very nice lips they were. Ample lips, soft lips. Her fingertips stroked back and forth underneath that pouty lower lip.

And Casey watched as she put her thumb in her mouth. Oh sweet Jesus, Casey thought. Her lips wrapped softly around the base of her thumb and she sucked it, and Casey knew exactly who he would spend the night with tonight!

The umpire broke up the conference and the gray-clad defense jogged back to their positions. The catcher crouched behind the plate, and Casey took his stance. He glanced one last time at the blonde, who sunk two fingers right into her mouth. She pumped them slowly in and out between her red lips.

The pop of the ball in leather shook Casey out of his stunned trance. "Strike one!" the umpire said.

Fuck! Casey said to himself. They're pitching to me! The stands remained eerily silent for several beats, and Casey felt a moment of panic. Did his fans notice his lack of attention? What if they turned on him? What if they forgot the legend that is Casey? "That ain't my style," said Casey, in an attempt to appease the crowd.

 
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