I’d tried everything I could think of. Backgammon. Yahtzee. Mouse Trap. Stratego. Candy Land. The Uncle Wiggily Board Game. The Mad Magazine Card Game. Air hockey. Bubble hockey. Sega NHL ’94—she picked the Yzerman/Fedorov Red Wings because of Cameron Frye’s jersey, and you can guess how that went. How hard was it to find one thing I could beat her at, and finally get to fuck her up the ass?
⚪
One spring day, I discovered some old wiffle balls in the shed. Real wiffle balls, with the eight oblong holes on one hemisphere, not the crummy imitation balls with little circular holes all over the surface. You can’t throw curves with those. Too symmetrical.
I hadn’t played since college, but I had three solid pitches back then and was curious whether I could still throw them. I’d been fooling around in the backyard for a while when I heard Heidi’s car pull into the driveway.
“Hey, babe,” I intercepted her in the kitchen. “Want some iced tea?”
“Sure, that’d be great.” She gave me a quick smooch. “What’ve you been up to?”
“I was cleaning out the shed and found some wiffle balls and a bat.” I pretended that a thought had just occurred to me. “Didn’t you play softball in high school?”
“Yup,” she confirmed before taking a swig of iced tea. “I batted over .500 my senior year.”
“Oh yeah? Think you still got it?” I asked with a hint of a dare in my voice.
A devious smile spread across her face. “Against you?”
“Against me. Our usual stakes.”
“Challenge accepted. Let me get changed,” she called over her shoulder, already hurrying upstairs.
When she came out to the backyard, she was wearing blue jeans that perfectly hugged her ass and a three-quarter-length baseball shirt that perfectly accentuated her tits.
“What are the ground rules?” she asked, picking up the plastic yellow bat and slowly waving it around like old Ben Kenobi had just handed her a lightsaber.
“If I strike you out, I win. If you hit the ball into the bushes,” I nodded behind me, “then you win. If you hit a pop-up or a weak ground ball, it’s a do-over.”
Heidi nodded thoughtfully. “Hit by pitch?”
“We’ll just count it as a ball; it’s not like it’ll hurt.”
“Four balls is a walk, which is a win for me.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s your job to throw strikes, Chet,” she shrugged. “You can’t just throw junk and hope I’ll swing at it.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “But the entire lawn chair is the strike zone, including the legs. Then there are no arguments about where the ball hit it.”
“Deal. And one last thing,” Heidi added with a smirk. “You have to get me out twice.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I told you, I batted .500 senior year. If I bat .500 against you, I win.”
I grumbled about that for appearance’s sake, but I’d been half expecting her to demand three outs, so I didn’t protest too much about giving her two.
“I’ll toss some warm-up pitches so you can get used to swinging the bat. Full speed but right down the middle.”
She got into her batting stance, left-handed, and I threw her some meatballs, right-handed. Heidi got in a few good whacks, and after a few minutes we were both ready to play ball.
For my first pitch, I held the ball with the holes facing to the left, and placed the tip of my index finger against one hole. Rearing back, I fired the ball somewhat high and outside. Heidi watched as the ball cut a wicked curve down and to the left, whapping against the fabric backing of the chair and settling into the seat.
“What the fuck was that?” Heidi fumed.
“I believe that was strike one.”
She glowered at me and tossed the ball back before hoisting the bat above her shoulder again. I threw the same pitch, but this time I aimed even further high and outside. Heidi relaxed, then watched in surprise as it swooped down and nicked the top corner of the chair for strike two.
She retrieved the ball and tossed it to me. “Try that shit again,” she dared me.
This time I aimed for the center of the strike zone. Heidi knew what to expect, but swung over the top and the ball bounced off the front leg of the chair just behind her back foot.
“Strike three, yer out!”
“I’ll get you!” Heidi snarled through gritted teeth, pointing the bat at me. “You can’t throw three more of those by me!”
Of course, she was right; I couldn’t ride the Eephus pitch much longer. For my next pitch, I positioned the holes at the top center and laid my index and middle fingers in two of them. When I fired the ball, it traveled straight down Main Street with a snuffling whoosh-whoosh-whoosh sound. Heidi swung and nicked the bottom of the ball, but it continued on and clipped the top of the chair for strike one.
“Shit!” Heidi burst out before retrieving the ball and tossing it back. Tilting her head, she asked, “Why did it make that noise?”
“That was The Woofer,” I grinned as I worked the ball between my hands. “Strike one.”
“Your pitches have names?” Heidi’s eyes widened as she began to realize what she’d gotten herself into.
For my third specialty pitch, The Cutback, I positioned the holes on the right side of the ball, with the tip of my ring finger grazing one of the holes. This time, I fired the ball straight at her waist. Instinctively, she jackknifed out of the way, then the ball tailed slightly to the right and hit the near armrest of the chair before skipping away.
“Asshole!” Heidi exploded, then scooped up the ball and flung it at my head.
“Strike two.”
She probably knew I’d go back to The Eephus, but it didn’t matter. I threw it so far outside that she couldn’t even lunge for it, and it dove down and hit the back leg of the chair with a satisfying snick.
“Fuck!” Heidi screamed, slamming the bat against the ground. “This strike zone sucks donkey dick!”
“Hey,” I said gently. “You’ll disturb the neighbors. Look, it’s only a game, babe. You’ve beaten me probably a dozen times already.”
“I know,” she sighed, returning to her senses. “It’s just that I’ve been dominating you for so long, I wanted to keep my winning streak going as long as possible.”
“If you batted right-handed like a normal person,” I chuckled, “you probably could have worked a walk off my Eephus pitch. I might’ve hit you four times before getting three strikes.”
Heidi smiled tartly, then sauntered over and whispered in my ear. “So you’re finally gonna get to fuck me in the ass, Chet.”
“It sure looks that way.”
“Give me a few minutes to get ready, then meet me upstairs.” She placed the bat in my hands, then began the long walk towards the dugout—er, house.
⚪
Fifteen minutes later, she was on all fours on the bed and I was easing my raging cock inside her tight, pink, slippery asshole for the first time ever. Starting slowly, we gradually increased our speed and intensity as we grew accustomed to this new experience. Well, new for me; I’ve never asked Heidi for details about her sexual history and she’s never offered them. For all I know, she’s had a dozen guys bang her in the ass on the same night.
Damn, that sounds fucking hot; maybe I should ask her for details.
The wiffle ball bat was lying next to us on the bed. I picked it up and slid it in front of her pelvis, then gripped both ends and pulled her close against me as I savagely pounded on her back door.
“Oh, fuck, Chet!” Heidi whimpered as she mashed her face into the bedding and began rubbing her clit raw. “Give it to me!”
“You love my cock in your ass?” I growled as I thrust all the way inside and held still for a moment.
“Yes!” she groaned. “You’re so deep inside me!”
“I’m gonna fuckin’ cum in your ass in a minute.”
“Wait!” she yelped. “Not yet! Just hold it there until—”
She cut herself off with a low moan, then cooed “Oh! Oh! Oh!” as she frigged herself to an explosive climax. I remained motionless as her sphincter repeatedly gripped the base of my cock.
“Now it’s my turn,” I sneered, pumping slowly at first, then working back up to full speed.
I couldn’t believe the view; usually when I fuck her from behind, I can see her puckered little asshole above my dick. But this time I couldn’t see her asshole, because my dick was inside it. I know it’s obvious, but it was kind of blowing my mind.
When I finally came, I saw stars and nearly blacked out. A total eclipse of the arse. I shot seven or eight spurts inside her poop chute, and my dick was so excited that it kept pulsing long after my orgasm had subsided.
Heidi turned and mumbled half into the pillow, “Well babe, was it everything you’ve ever dreamed of?”
“It was my Field of Dreams,” I huffed, catching my breath.
“Field of Reams,” Heidi snickered, reaching under and gently stroking my nutsack.
“Field of Creams,” I observed as my limp pecker slid out and her asshole began leaking my spooge onto the bedspread. “I can’t believe I finally got to cum in your bum.”
“It’s about time; now we can finally stop playing those stupid kids’ games! I mean, Candy Land, for fuck’s sake?” she laughed into the pillow. “What was I thinking?”
I smacked her ass lightly with the yellow plastic bat and ran the barrel along her crack. “Hey, you know that old Beastie Boys song? I did it like this. I did it like that. I did it with the wiffle ball bat.”
“You are not sticking that thing in my pussy.”
“Oh, no?”
Smack.
“No.”
Smack.
“Wanna bet?”
