Curse Of The Bambino
Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Safe Sex, School,
Desc: Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Ah, yes, the Red Sox and the Yankees are in the ALCS, playing for the pennant. Meanwhile, on the campus of Syracuse University, Mitch - a lifelong Sox fan - and his best friend Callie - who loves the Yankees - are getting ready for the games. Co-winner of the October 2003 Silver Ciltorides
It was shortly after the semester began that we had the conversation.
We were all sophomores at Syracuse University. There were 11 of us that day, hanging in my room together, 5 girls and 6 guys. Fitting 11 people in a dorm room is an accomplishment in and of itself. We were on beds, chairs, the floor. I was on my bed with my best friend, Callie Durban. Believe me, there wasn't anything going on on that bed other than sitting. Like I said, Callie was my best friend-and only my best friend. And that wasn't my choice.
Evidently, a few other people saw what I had seen, because that's how the conversation started. Melanie, who was one of Callie's best friend, saw us talking and said, "So, tell me-why on earth aren't you two going out?"
"Sore subject," I muttered.
"He'd like that, wouldn't he?" Callie grinned. "We're too good friends to risk it."
"Why do girls always say that?" Jack, my roommate, muttered.
"Because it's code," Tim offered. Every head turned to him. "Look, I have a lot of female friends," Tim said.
"Of course you do," I grinned. "All gay guys have lots of female friends."
"Right," he agreed. "And, since I'm gay and nonthreatening and all, they tell me stuff. Here's one thing hetero guys don't get-who a girl goes out with is all based on sex."
"Oh no it's not," Ronnie, another one of the girls there, protested. "I think you have girls confused with guys."
"No, I don't," Tim maintained. "We're talking about two different things. Guys go out with girls to get sex, but guys don't decide who to go out with based on sex, because it's not usually a big deal."
"What do you mean?" Callie asked.
"Keeping me out of this, because I'm gay, we have five girls and five guys in this room. If I asked every guy, based purely on physical attraction, how many of the girls in this room they'd be attracted to, I guarantee they'd all say four or five. If I asked the girls in the room how many guys they'd be physically attracted to, it'd be zero or one." Surprisingly, nobody argued with this.
"So," Tim added, "guys use other things other than sex to decide who to ask out. In the case of Mitch and Callie, it's easy, and I've seen it, having known those two for a year. Mitch wants to go out with Callie because he's in love with her. Sex has nothing to do with it, he'd have sex with any of you, but Callie's the one he's emotionally drawn to. And Callie won't go out with him because he doesn't make her panties wet."
"You're crazy. That's not it at all!" Callie protested.
"Sure it isn't," Tim went on. "And what's really sad is that girls make that judgment based on almost nothing. I had two friends in high school that had been friends with each other since fifth grade. Same thing, he was gaga over her, and she was saying 'let's just be friends' which means he didn't make her panties wet. Good thing for her he hung in there, because, at the beginning of senior year, she finally deigned to go out on a date with him. And she let him kiss her goodnight. And it was all over-sparks flew, rockets went off, yadda yadda yadda. She didn't think he made her panties wet-but the minute their lips touched, he did. They go to NYU together now and are blissfully happy."
"You're wrong," Callie said again.
"So, Mitch does turn you on?" Tim asked. Callie didn't say anything. "I rest my case."
"Look, some guys are just destined for friendship," Ronnie added.
"This is why I'm glad I'm gay," Tim laughed, "I don't have to deal with that bullshit. Ronnie, that's a rationalization. Isn't a lover supposed to be a friend first and foremost?" Nobody knew what to say to that.
I wondered if Callie thought at all about that conversation. I know I did. I think she did, too-because she seemed, I don't know, weird around me. It was hard to pinpoint, but she'd look at me funny every so often.
Anyhow, the friendship was solid, even when we argued. And, on the evening of October 6th, there was a hell of an argument brewing.
You see, one thing Callie and I absolutely agreed on was that we both were fanatical baseball fans. What we didn't agree on was the choice of teams. Callie was from Westchester County, New York, and was a rabid Yankees fan. Me? Medford, Mass., thank you very much-and that's pronounced Meffa, OK?--and a die-hard card-carrying member of Red Sox Nation. So, as a bunch of us watched on October 6th as the Sox eked out the series-winning game against the Oakland A's, the argument started. The Yankees had beaten the Twins on the day before.
"There we go, guys. The Sox and the Yankees in the ALCS for the pennant," Jack proclaimed. "Ought to be a good one." Jack was from Chicago, a Cubs fan, and had more of a rooting interest in the NLCS, which was Cubs-Marlins.
"It ought to be an easy one," Callie proclaimed. "The Red Sox. Feh. The Curse of the Bambino lives!"
"Not this year, Callista," I told her. "It's the Sox' year. Team of destiny, I'm telling you. Down two-zero to the A's? Down 4-3 in the eighth inning of game four? It's magic, I tell you. It's our year."
"No, that was 1918," Callie teased. "It hasn't been a century yet, so you don't rate. The Yankees do not lose to the Sox, and they're not about to start now."
"Fine. How about a little wager, then?"
"You're on. How much?"
"Oh, money is so boring," I told her. "I had something else in mind." She just looked at me. "If the Sox win, you sleep with me."
"You're kidding," she said.
"Nope. I want one shot. I think if I get that shot, you'll realize how good we could be together. If this is the only way I'll ever get it, I'll take advantage of it."
"Fine. Since the Yankees won't lose, I'll play. But what do I get if I win?"
"Think of something," I said.
She thought for a minute, then got a very evil grin on her face. "Fine. You want to play this way? Fine. If I win, I get to watch--while you give Tim a blowjob!"
I looked at her in complete shock for a minute. Then I got mad. "I'm sorry, Callie, I didn't realize just the thought of going to bed with me was so repulsive."
"I'm not gay. I don't know if I could give another guy a blowjob without throwing up. Is that how you feel about sleeping with me?"
"NO! Of course not. It's just that..." she sighed. "If I'm betting my body, I wanted you to bet something important, and that was what came to mind."
"Fine," I spat out. Everybody looked at me in shock. "I'll do it."
"You will?" she said.
"Yup. If that what it takes. Now maybe you'll see how important it is to me, because It think it'd start something really good between us. That's how important it is, that I'm willing to risk giving Tim a blowjob." With that, I burst out of the room, to let her think on that.
Tim quickly caught up to me. "Nobody asked me what I thought about this."
I grinned at him. "Oh, fuck that, Tim. I saw the look of disappointment on your face last year when I told you I was straight."
"Too true," he grinned back. "You'd actually do it?"
"I don't welsh on bets." I said determinedly.
"That's a pretty high price to pay if you lose." He grinned widely. "And you're betting a whole hell of a lot on that shaky Red Sox bullpen."
"The Yankees pen ain't much better," I grinned back. "I just hope Damon's all right." Johnny Damon, the Sox' center fielder, had gotten a concussion in the last Oakland game.
"You really want Callie, don't you?" Tim asked.
"I don't just want her, Tim. I'm in love with her. And that conversation you had with us a couple weeks ago made me think-because I think you're right. I need to find a way to make her panties wet. And if I have to win a bet to get her panties off to do it, then that's what I'll do."
He looked at me strangely. "You sure are confident in your abilities in bed."
"Well, yes," I grinned. "A lot more confident than I am in the Red Sox bullpen!" We laughed. "Seriously," I went on, "I think I could make her happy. I just want the chance to try."
"Well, I'm rooting for you. Even if it does cost me a blowjob! Hey, I'm an Indians fan, so I got no dog in this hunt, but, hey, everybody loves to hate the Yankees, right? Go Sox!"