Chapter 27: Feminazis

Saturday April 30

I hadn’t planned to run this morning because we had our game against St. Joe today. That meant I could sleep in, or so I thought. I heard the door open and Duke bolted to go outside. Peggy told him to hurry up, and for some reason, he minded her.

“What are you still doing in bed? Aren’t you running today?”

“I have a game today and don’t want to tire out my legs.”

“You should probably get some cardio,” she suggested.

I really am a ‘stupid boy’ sometimes. I had no idea what she meant until she began to take her clothes off. Thank God for older women to show us the way.

I suddenly had a question pop into my head.

“Hey, how long before I can sleep with Pam?” I asked.

“You’re seriously asking me about having sex with another woman when I just took my clothes off?”

“When you put it that way ... I just thought ... never mind,” I stammered.

She lay down next to me, spread her legs and pointed.

“Make mama happy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Peggy had a sparse red bush. I did note that she shaved her lips. I did as she asked and gave her sex a big lick right down the center to get everything moist and pry her lips apart. I spotted her clit as it peeked out from under its hood. I slid my hands to the back of her thighs so I could lift and spread her legs to give me better access.

Peggy was my ideal woman, if I could choose what I wanted: red hair, a touch of freckles on alabaster skin, pink nipples that only redheads seem to have, breasts high and firm on her chest, athletic, and a killer butt. Add that to someone I liked, who was intelligent, fun to be around, and she would fit most all the checkmarks on my list.

I just wished she hadn’t succumbed to Mitch’s attention. If that hadn’t happened, we could have still been dating.

I flicked my tongue over her clit, and I felt her jerk. That was my opening move that soon had her squirming. I loved to feast on her sex. Peggy inspired me to work to make her happy. I let one hand caress her stomach, and then it wandered up to her firm breasts to play with her sensitive nipples. My other hand cupped her butt to hold her in place so I could focus on giving her pleasure.

She must have been horny because she surprised me when all of a sudden she was vocally proclaiming her orgasm. She rapidly planted her palm against my forehead and pushed me away.

“Stop,” she begged.

I backed off to let her get her breath. I knew that sometimes when I came really hard, I didn’t want anyone to touch the head of my dick for a few moments. While she did that, I went to my toy drawer. I think almost all the cheerleaders had left various items when they had their toy party at my place. The drawer was full of different kinds of dildos and vibrators. I’d never used one with Peggy, but I felt today would be a good day to start.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“We’re going to try something new. Do you trust me?” I asked.

“That depends.”

“Would I ever hurt you?” I asked as I pouted.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I should trust you.”

“If you don’t like what I do to you, I’ll stop,” I said.

“Okay.”

“Here, put this on,” I said, handing her a sleep mask to blindfold her.

She hesitated and then just put it on. I wanted to both surprise her and have her focus on what she felt.

I smiled while I got out the lube and coated my fingers. Peggy moaned as I began to massage her rosebud. I’d never played with her butt before. When I’d gotten her slick, I coated an egg vibrator and put the tip against her opening.

“I’ve never...” caught in her throat as I pushed and it popped in.

She stiffened when I thumbed the control to start it to vibrate. The control looked like a key fob for a car and it was attached to a wire that went to the vibrator. The wire was handy when it came time to pull it back out.

“David,” she moaned.

“That’s it, Baby. You’ll be screaming my name before I’m done,” I teased.

It was fun to watch her expression as she tried to decide if she liked it or not.

To distract her, I began to give her a nice sensual massage. I knew her body, and I could tell she was getting close to another orgasm. I kept her right on edge until she began to beg me.

.

“David, please. Help me cum. Pleeease!”

I pushed her legs up and bent her in half. She shrieked when I put my whole mouth over her sex and began to maul her pussy. When she stiffened, I pulled my face away, put two fingers into her, and searched until I found her G-spot. I went to town as I took her to the biggest orgasm yet.

I admired my work. The poor girl was flushed and had rock-hard nipples. Her sex was puffed-up, wet and red. I let her slowly catch her breath. I grabbed a condom and put it on. I made sure it was covered in extra lube.

Peggy seemed to realize something was amiss when I pulled out the egg and pushed the head of my dick against her rosebud.

“Do you want me to do it?” I asked.

She pulled off her sleep mask and looked me in the eyes. I figured I might have a ten percent chance, but sometimes gambles paid off.

“Go slow,” she murmured.

She sucked in her breath as I pushed an inch in. I froze to give her a chance to get used to the feel. I reached down and began to rub four fingers over her clit. Peggy closed her eyes, and her head fell back with her lips parted. I began slowly to saw in and out of her tight little butt. She began to pant like a dog as I inched more and more of my hard length into her depths.

I think we were both surprised when my balls slapped against her butt cheeks. I looked down and she had taken it all. My thick cock looked like it was splitting her apart.

“I didn’t think I would ever want to do this,” Peggy said with a little smile. “I’m such a slut.”

“You’re my slut,” I corrected.

I wanted to fuck the shit out of her, but I knew if I did, she would never let me do it again after I destroyed her perfect ass. I think it was a good thing that the sight of her as I pillaged her butt caused me to feel that special tingle in my balls. I gave it two more strokes and then pushed as deep as I could go.

“I can feel you cumming,” Peggy said as my cock jerked while it pumped cum into the condom.

“Aaahhhh ... Yesss!” I hissed.

I collapsed on top of Peggy. She gave me a shove, and I rolled off and pulled out of her all in one motion. My cock was still jerking around like it was air-humping as it continued to twitch after an astounding orgasm.

Peggy knew me, too. She pulled the condom off, used my freshly washed sheet to clean me off, and put another condom on. She straddled my waist and put Mr. Happy back to work, this time where he belonged. I just lay back and let her have her way with me. She rode herself to another nice one. I was close, so I rolled her over and finished off in the missionary position.

She smacked my butt.

“That’s what I call cardio,” she said with a big smile.

I got up to take my shower. When I came back, Peggy and Duke were gone. I noticed the lube and egg vibrator were also gone. Some stuff just makes you smile. Then I realized something: she never told me when Pam would be ready for sex. I think she got distracted.

When I went down to breakfast, Megan gave me a smirk. I think Mom caught it.

“What’s going on?” Mom asked.

I went to the refrigerator to decide what to make and left Megan to explain herself.

“What did you do, David?” Mom asked my back, while I rummaged through to try to find what I wanted.

“I have no idea. Megan was the one giving me the look. Ask her.”

I peeked under my arm and saw Megan lean over to my mom and whisper something to her.

“They do that all the time,” Mom said.

“Who does what all the time?” Dad asked as he came into the kitchen.

“David and Peggy had sex this morning,” Mom announced.

“Oh. What are you making for breakfast?” Dad asked.

“I thought I’d make a frittata,” I answered.

Megan sat in stunned silence. I guess the announcement that one of her brothers had just had sex would have been news in her house. She wasn’t used to how open my family was.

“Don’t forget to get the egg-to-dairy ratio correct,” Dad warned.

“I’ve got this,” I said, to let my dad know not to be so bossy.

He was the king of frittatas. He made them for dinner when he was tired. A frittata was a great catch-all for leftovers. One of the tricks was to make sure all the ingredients you added were fully cooked before you combined them with the egg mixture.

We had a cast iron skillet that was perfect for making them in. Dad told me the pan had been his grandmother’s and had been passed down to him. I’d decided on ham, potatoes, onions and mushrooms with cheddar cheese. The egg-to-dairy ratio was twelve eggs to half a cup of dairy, which could be whole milk, sour cream, yogurt, or crème fraîche. All were great options. I saw a container of sour cream, so that was my pick.

I cooked the ham, potatoes and onions until they were almost done, then I added the mushrooms. To the eggs, I added the sour cream, cracked black pepper and dill weed. I mixed it all up and then added the cheddar cheese. I poured the egg and cheese mixture over what was in the skillet. To top it off, I sprinkled Parmesan to add a sharp hit of salty, nutty flavor.

I put my frittata into a 350-degree oven and set the timer for twenty minutes. Dad watched me like a hawk.

“Remember, a good frittata should have the texture of custard: trembling and barely set,” Dad reminded me.

“Maybe you should watch it,” I shot back.

“You really should. We all remember the last time he made one. It turned out like an old kitchen sponge,” Mom said.

I just threw up my hands and made myself some tea. By the time it was ready, Peggy had joined us.

“Oh good, you made it,” Peggy said to my dad as he took it out of the oven.

You make one mistake!

For once, the seedings had held. St. Joe was number one and we were number two. Since they joined our conference, they’d had the best baseball program. They actually fielded three teams during the year. When it came time for postseason play, they pulled together sort of their all-star team.

I felt they were the better team, as far as skill-set went. I thought our only advantage was that we’d played as a team all year. That was important in certain situations. You knew what your teammate would do and acted accordingly.

Today Brock Callahan was pitching. We all hoped he could do as well as his brother. We were having an unseasonably warm day today. On the way to school, they said it was 78 degrees. When you were used to the mid-60s, that felt hot during warm-ups. I just leaned my head back and soaked in the sun. I understood why people fled the Midwest during the winter months for warmer climes. In just a few weeks, I would be in Cuba where it would be even warmer. It felt good to let the heat help loosen up my muscles.

“What’re you thinking?” Jim asked me, to bring me back from my sun worship.

“That you’re going to be sweating your balls off in Alabama in a few weeks. When are you heading out?”

“In about a month. I’ve enrolled in summer school to get a couple of classes under my belt,” he said as he looked around. “I’m going to miss it here.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t believe I only have one year left.”

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Jim said.

“You must be nervous. Everything will be new.”

“Suzanne said I’ll love it,” he said, talking about his sister. “I’ve been talking to a few of the new recruits and getting to know them. It won’t be like I don’t know anyone.”

“Are you excited about going?” I asked.

He gave me a tight smile.

“My dad told me it was part of growing up. I’ve been in the same bedroom for all my life. My mom and dad have been there for me. I do miss my sister, but she seems happy at Northwestern. It’ll be fine, though.”

“We’ll miss you. My uncle tells me not to be in such a hurry to grow up. I agree with him. Go and enjoy the heck out of it. All too soon you’ll have to grow up and get a nine-to-five, and I don’t want you to look back and think you didn’t have some fun.”

Jim scoffed at me.

“Says the man who’s constantly working. When are you going to take your own advice?”

I shook my head. He was right. I missed the days when the highlight was going for a bike ride, going swimming or playing video games. It had been at least three months since I logged onto my gaming account. I just didn’t seem to have the time.

“You know what the saddest part is about that? I have to plan downtime.”

“I know, your life is crazy. I hear people say they wished they were you, but I’ve watched you. I don’t think I have it in me to do what you do. What I do know is that watching you makes me work harder,” Jim said.

“I have no doubt you’ll work hard. Just don’t let it consume you.”

Coach Haskins called us in to let St. Joe have the field.

Because St. Joe was the number one seed, they were technically the home team, even though the game was played on our field. We’d had to offer them almost half the tickets to the game for the High School Athletic Association to agree to this arrangement. Most Regional games were played on local high school baseball fields. Because of the number of people that attended our games, the HSAA wanted all the Regionals to be held at Lincoln because we had the largest seating capacity of any high school in the state.

Next week, for Sectionals, the games would be played on neutral sites. Somehow our athletic director, working with the booster club, had arranged for our field to be a host site. State was another stadium hosting, as were two other universities. State would eventually host the championship final four.

Something I didn’t like about how our state did high school playoffs was it was one and done. To win state, you had to win eight straight games. In baseball, that was an almost unheard-of feat. That was why even the College World Series was a double-elimination format. The Major Leagues did have a play-in game, but then after that, they went to a best-of-five or best-of-seven format.

The reason our state did it this way was threefold. The first was it gave almost every team in the state a chance to participate. The second was we didn’t have enough days on the calendar to do a double-elimination tournament. Finally, they worried about young pitchers. In a playoff situation, your best pitcher might become overworked and more susceptible to injury.

My feeling was it put better teams at a disadvantage. One bad outing and you were gone. I felt that St. Joe would beat us in a best-of-five series without much trouble. The good news for us was we only had to win today to move on.

It was finally game time, and I stepped out to do some practice swings. The crowd suddenly got eerily quiet. I looked around to see what the problem was and found our fans all sitting down. That was something I’d never seen at the start of a game. Then someone stood up: Alan. He had an old-style boom box that he lifted over his head. I closed my eyes as the first chords of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck began to play. I guess word had gotten out that we weren’t doing that anymore, but Alan and our fans decided they wanted it.

When the music started, our fans jumped up and began ringing their damned cowbells, stomping their feet and singing along. I looked over to the St. Joe side, and they’d joined in.

‘Ayaahhayaayaayaa ... THUNDER! Ayaahhayaayaayaa ... THUNDER! Ayaahhayaayaayaa ... THUNDER! Ayaahhayaayaayaa ... THUNDER!’

I looked out at the pitcher, and he looked pissed. Instead of going to the batter’s box, I headed to the mound. Well, fuck me ... that got a reaction.

“It’s all good,” I said, holding up my hands as the catcher, all the umpires, St. Joe’s coach and Moose all ran to the mound.

“What do you want?” their pitcher asked.

“I just wanted to tell you that we didn’t play the music. I wanted to tell you that we think you’ve got a great team and no disrespect was intended,” I explained.

He refused to shake my hand and gave me a menacing look. I figured, what the fuck, be an ass. I turned around and headed back to the batter’s box. Everyone else saw it was okay and started back to where they belonged. I stopped, turned, and looked the pitcher in the eyes.

“One more thing,” I said, which froze everyone. “You hit me with a pitch, and I’ll tear your arm off and beat you with it.”

Moose grabbed me, and their pitcher had to be restrained by their coach. Coach Haskins had the dugout blocked as all my guys jumped up. St. Joe’s side rushed the field, and the umpires all put a wall up to keep them off me.

Moose marched me to our dugout and had a boisterous discussion with me while the umpires cleared the field. I caught him half-smiling at my attempt to rile up their pitcher. My guys had seen me play alpha dog before, so they took it in stride.

The umpires finally got St. Joe back on their benches and pulled the two coaches behind the plate. The St. Joe coach about lost his mind when the umpire told him that if his pitcher threw at anyone, he’d be gone, as would the coach. Moose got the same warning. Coach Herndon was talking to Brock, telling him not to retaliate. Our team knew if something went down, to let the coaches or me handle it.

They let St. Joe’s pitcher throw a couple of balls to try and settle down. I smiled when I saw he was raring back and throwing as hard as he could. His adrenaline had to be pumping through his veins.

I got into the batter’s box and dug in. When you overthrow a fastball, it tends to rise in the zone. I looked for one on the first pitch if he didn’t throw at my head. I guessed right on the first pitch, and it sounded good going off the bat. The pitcher’s head snapped around and watched a towering shot as it drifted just foul.

I was pissed I’d been a little behind on that one. I could tell from the look on the pitcher’s face that he was going to throw at me.

“You better warn him,” I told the umpire.

He seemed to agree and he motioned their coach out and met him at the mound. All three of them were red-faced when the umpire came back. Their coach said a few words and I saw a smirk come onto the face of the pitcher. Well, fuck!

Sure enough, the next pitch was in the middle of my back. I would have to send Sandy Range flowers because her new protective gear did its job. The umpire behind the plate stepped in front of me, and I just smiled at him.

“You little shit. You wanted to get their pitcher out of the game,” he said so only I could hear him.

“I’d never admit to that,” I said, feigning shock.

“Take your base,” he ordered me.

St. Joe’s coach and pitcher hit the showers. As far as the St. Joe fans were concerned, I was now public enemy number one.

St. Joe was in a bind. They’d gone through their two best pitchers to get to this game, and their third-best one had just been tossed. Granted, they had depth because they played three teams, but in high school, you only had so many top-notch arms. They faced the choice of bringing out their best starter on short rest or a sophomore. I guess I wasn’t surprised when they brought out their best starter.

It wasn’t like he pitched yesterday, but what it did was mess them up for the Sectional games. He would have to slide back into the order, and they might never get to him for the next round of the playoffs. I could see their logic, though. If they didn’t win this one, they were done.

When he was warmed up, the umpire indicated it was time to play ball. No starting pitcher was used to beginning a game with a runner on. Their ace hadn’t really faced that many base runners because he tended to throw a lot of sinking stuff that got hit as ground balls. He counted on his defense to back him up. Having me on first caused him to have to begin by pitching out of the stretch.

Ray Quinn, the sophomore who had taken Yuri’s spot at third, was up. St. Joe’s pitcher was worried about me and had me dive back to first base a couple of times before he went home with the ball. Ray had been instructed to keep the bat on his shoulder until the pitcher threw a strike. Moose wanted to see what their pitcher had today before he forced Ray to hit. It turned out to be a good strategy because their pitcher tried to throw around the edges and get Ray to chase a pitch. Four pitches later, I was on second base. Five more pitches after that and I was on third.

Jim came to the plate with the bases loaded. Over the winter and spring, Jim had taken to the training program and was now up to 275 pounds of muscle. He’d also lost a couple of inches on his waist, so he no longer looked boxy. His goal was to put on another ten to fifteen pounds for the start of football. Alabama would get him into their program and more than likely redshirt him. He had the frame to be a beast. At six-five, he already looked the part on the baseball field.

On the first pitch, Jim hit a curveball on the ground up the middle. The second baseman and shortstop charged it so they could turn the double play. This was when the two of them not playing together all year hurt their team. They collided and the ball rolled into center field. Everyone had run on contact because it was on the ground. Ray and I scored easily, with Bryan ending up at third and Jim at first.

Their pitcher settled down and was able to get Brock to hit into a double play, but Bryan was able to score to make it 3–0.

When I came up in the second, we were still up 3–0 with one out and two on. I shook my head when they hit me again. This time they clipped my forearm, which loaded the bases. That meant they needed a new pitcher, and their assistant coach was also gone. The new pitcher came in and served up a batting-practice ball to Ray who hit his first home run of the year to make it 7–0.

In the top of the seventh I came up and they hit me for the fifth time. They’d come back, but we now led 12–7. The umpire had warned them if they hit me again, they would forfeit the game. I guess they figured, ‘Why not?’ By now, I was ready to kick someone’s ass. Even with the Range Sports gear, my back was starting to complain.

“David Allen Dawson!” cut through the crowd noise.

The last thing I needed was my mom to come out on the field. I took a deep breath and let my anger go.

After I was finally done with handing out baseball cards and showering, I came out to find my mom waiting for me with Alan. He had a guilty look, and he glanced at my mom.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I heard her let out her breath and Alan glanced at her again.

“I’m sorry for playing the music before the game. My actions have consequences, and you getting drilled five times was part of those consequences,” Alan said.

Someone had rehearsed their lines and delivered them badly. I didn’t believe he was sorry for a second. He was just afraid of what my mom might do to him.

“Okay, fine. Just don’t do it again,” I said.

He looked at my mom and she nodded to him. Alan took off. What a dick.

“I hate to say this, but I’m starting to not like him very much,” Mom said, shocking me.

“Here I thought it was just me. Actually, Tami has also had about enough of him.”

“She told me, but I didn’t believe it until today. How are you?” she asked.

I pulled up my shirt. I had some red spots where I was hit, but it didn’t look like there would be any bruising. When she was satisfied, she let me put my shirt back down.

“What are you doing tonight?” Mom asked.

“Boys’ night out. Jim’s only here for a few more weeks, so we’re going out,” I said.

I slipped my security tether. I told Fritz he had the night off, that I planned to stay in. I just wanted to be a teenager and have some fun with Jim and the guys. I had to take the baby seats out of the Jeep. It felt good to actually drive a car.

I’d talked to Fritz about us signing up for a defensive driving class with the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor SUV. The Raptor pickup was designed by Ford to be an off-road vehicle. Hennessey had taken it apart, turned it into an oversized SUV, and tricked it out. The modifications made it a beast. I’d read that the biggest complaint was that people decided to treat it as a true off-road vehicle and had ended up bending the frame because the wheelbase was greater.

Because of the extra suspension, the Ford Hennessey VelociRaptor SUV ride was very comfortable. You would never guess you were driving something that big. They’d also done work on the engine that made it perform like my Dodge Charger had. Fritz had agreed that we needed to see what it could really do in a controlled situation, like a defensive driving class. The only problem was when. My summer was booked solid; the soonest would be in the fall. I would bet that Brook would want to join us.

My Jeep was a fun car to drive. It wasn’t very big, but for a teenage guy, it was exactly what he wanted. Well ... it could use a larger back seat for a little parking action.

I pulled up to Jim’s house and saw that there were already several cars there. When I went in, I found that Wolf, Ty, Kelly, Ed, Bryan and Brock had beat me there and were watching a baseball game on TV. I found Jim in the back, starting the grill.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” I asked.

“I thought about going out, but I decided it might be more fun to eat some charred meat, drink a few beers and play poker. I didn’t want to have to find everyone at the end of the night.”

“I agree. On a guy’s night out there should be a rule like ‘Never Leave a Man Behind,’” I offered.

“Can you handle the grill for me?” Jim asked.

“If you get me a beer.”

“You’re not worried about Moose?” Jim asked.

“I’ve been good most of the year. I think we can have a little fun, especially since who knows when we’ll get another chance.”

“Graduation. My parents are letting me throw another party.”

“Well, then I’ll have beers with you twice, then,” I said with a smile.

While he went to get one, I grabbed the metal brush and began to clean a year’s worth of crud off the grates. Jim came out with my beer and a huge platter of New York strips. Following him were Tim and his new girlfriend, Brit.

“I have a new rule,” Jim said. “No Girlfriends!”

“What are you talking about?” Brit asked.

“We’re making up rules about a guys’ night out,” I said.

“You don’t consider me one of the guys?” Brit asked.

I raised my eyebrows at Tim.

“You need to tell us something?” I asked.

“Fuck you, Dawson,” Tim said and took a swig of his beer.

Alan walked out on to the patio.

“Do you have any wine coolers?” he asked.

“No Nancy Boys,” Brit said, to add to the list.

I shot beer out my nose. Brit could stay.

“Alan, you’re so weird sometimes,” Jim said.

“What? I just like the taste better,” he whined.

“There’s only beer, so deal with it,” Tim said.

“Okay, okay, I was just asking,” Alan said, and he went back into the house.

I sent Jim into the kitchen to get me seasoning for the steaks and some oil for the grill. Tim and Brit went into the kitchen to start getting everything else ready. Jim’s mom had made mac and cheese, baked beans, and French fries, and they all were being kept warm in the oven. Brit was put in charge of the mushrooms.

I grilled the steaks, drank some beer and shot the shit with guys as they rotated out to see what I was doing and grab a steak. Finally, everyone had one, so I plated up the last one, turned off the grill and joined everyone inside.

By the end of the night I had two additional rules: ‘Don’t be Cheap’ and ‘Don’t be a Douche.’ The cheap one came from Kelly. He apparently didn’t think to bring any money to help pay for the food or play poker. I guess he expected us to cover for him. Fortunately, Ed stepped up and loaned him some money.

The douche was Alan. We were playing nickel, dime, and quarter poker stakes, just to have some fun. Alan had a good hand against me.

We were playing Texas Hold’em and the flop had come ace of spades, nine of spades and three of hearts. I looked at my two cards and saw two threes, to give me trip threes. I was guessing Alan had either two pair or a flush draw.

“I bet ten bucks,” he announced.

“Dude, we’re just goofing off. Plus, you can only bet what’s in front of you on the table,” Jim said, stepping in to head Alan off.

“David can afford it,” Alan announced.

“Let’s see your money,” I shot back, getting irritated with his little shot at me.

Alan reached for his wallet, dug out a ten, and put it on the table. I dug into mine and pulled out a twenty. I thought about it for a moment. Dad had been working with me to not just focus on my hand, but to try to figure out what my opponent might have. My guess was he had two pair and didn’t want me to draw to the flush. He could also have something like pocket aces or nines and have me dominated. I felt if he had that, he would have checked. Then again, Alan tended to get excited if he thought he had you beat, and pressed his luck. I’d used that against him playing video games. I decided to call. I took his ten and put the twenty into the pot.