Author's note:
This is an entry into the "
yay-team-sex-and-sports-story-challenge-2025-coming-soon
." It includes lesbian sex and, like all of my stories, a heaping helping of emotion (; Thank you to
thatsbogus
for helping me tighten it up and for the kind of patience that would translate to a league-leading on-base percentage.
All characters engaging in sex are 18.
Enjoy (:
~~~
Top 1st
WILDKATS 0 0 0
LADY BOMBERS 0 0 0
"You ain't got shit today, Cap."
Khloe's catcher clattered along behind her in the short tunnel, the locker room doors open and waiting for them.
"I mean, maybe you'll have a chance the first time through, just because they'll expect this hot shit they been hearin' all about to be, you know,
good
or something," Sierra said from behind her as they rounded the corner into the locker room, where no one could see them.
The fancy digs were a real luxury. Usually they had to try and find someplace nobody could see or just keep it down. But all the state tournament games were being held at a top-flight, D-I collegiate stadium. So all tournament long, they'd been able to let loose in relative privacy while they went through their routine.
Khloe snorted and wheeled on her catcher once they were both out of sight of the dugout above.
"Bullshit," Khloe said, a confident smirk as permanently etched on her face as she could make it. "I'm fucking
invincible
today. I can fucking feel
it already."
She slammed Sierra into the wall, pressing herself against the padded gear on Sierra's chest and grinding herself against her fellow senior.
The eye black smeared at the top of Sierra's cheeks made her brown eyes look even darker. They had a playful glint to them now.
Khloe tried to devour the taller, more muscular young woman, as if her tongue could convince Sierra there was no way she was going to let the championship slip away. Not today.
She kept kissing down Sierra's jaw, licking hungrily, and gave her catcher a playful bite.
"In fact," she said in between nibbles on Sierra's neck, "let's get this gear off you. You won't even need it today. They won't fucking touch me." She slid her hand between Sierra's legs to make her point, and Sierra smirked back at her, pressing herself against Khloe's exploring hand.
"They better not," Sierra growled. Sloppily, she attacked Khloe's lips with the same energy Khloe had shown, jolting the pitcher with electricity.
She really
did
feel invincible. It was tingling from her lips to her toes.
A voice rang down the tunnel.
"C'mon, Khloe, you're in the hole." It was Coach Lawson. She knew better than to come down and interrupt. As long as they could hear somebody yell down the tunnel, they could do whatever they needed to do. That was the deal.
"Hmm...it's like Coach knew where I was headed next," Khloe muttered with a silly half-grin, and slipped her fingers into Sierra's waistband.
The catcher snorted and sighed a little when Khloe's fingers found the softest part of her panties. But before they went any further, Sierra grabbed her pitcher's wrist and leaned in even closer.
"Get a hit, Cap," she said in a low tone that drove Khloe even wilder. Sierra winked and yanked the hand out of her pants.
Khloe grinned, their faces still centimeters apart. "With an incentive like that?" Her playful smirk was still etched on, and her lips grazed Sierra's while she spoke. "I'll make it a double." She winked and kissed Sierra with a quick peck.
"You got this, Cap," Sierra said more seriously, but with a confident smile, before Khloe could separate. Khloe could feel the confidence seeping into her.
"Fuck yeah I do."
"Fuck yeah you do." Sierra whacked the C on the top left of Khloe's chest with her mitt.
Khloe trotted up the tunnel, feeling even more invincible, if that were somehow possible.
Coach Lawson gave her a "hurry up" glare, but that was all. Khloe had her routines, and it'd led to too much success for anybody to mess with them at this point.
She shoved on her batting gloves and grabbed her bat. Somebody swatted her backside. "Get us goin', Cap."
Khloe barely heard.
Personally, she didn't think she should've had the C on her chest. It'd been there since she was a sophomore -- a unanimous vote every year. Yes, she was the best player on the team. To deny that would've crossed too far past humility and into insulting delusion. But that didn't mean she was captain material.
She wasn't the rah-rah type. She was always laser-focused on executing her gameplan, playing out every scenario in her head, and making sure she was ready to do her job and put her team in the best position to win. And she expected everybody else to do the same.
When she'd explained that to Sierra once, her catcher just laughed at her and said, "
Ohhh
, you don't say. Well I'll see if we can vote again then." Khloe hadn't been sure what the joke was.
At bat, Carli took an off-balance hack and whiffed on a dropball. She stepped out to regroup and her eyes met Khloe's in the on-deck circle.
Khloe smacked her palm to the inside of her shoulder a couple of times.
Gotta hang in, Carl. Can't fly open.
They'd talked about it enough that words weren't necessary. Carli nodded and stepped back into the box.
Khloe took a practice swing along with Carli, timing the opposing pitcher, Morgan Jennings. Morgan was good. Maybe better than Khloe.
No. Get that shit outta your head. You're fucking
invincible.
On the next pitch, Carli didn't pull off the ball and made solid contact -- but into an easy flyout.
Khloe stalked to the plate, in no hurry. She knew she was going to get a hit.
Nobody wants this more than me. Nobody. Failure isn't even an option this time. I'm gonna
will
us to a fucking win.
She could feel it in her bones. The tingling in her body had nothing to do with the moment.
The novelty of playing in such a big stadium had long since worn off, though the size of the crowd for the championship game was more difficult to ignore.
With a deep breath, she shut it out, narrowing her focus to the lane in front of her.
Same distance from the plate to the pitcher. Everything else is just a distraction.
She tapped her bat on home plate and slowly pointed it in front of her before coiling it above her shoulder, ready for the weak imitation of a pitcher 43 feet away to try and get something past her.
The ball sizzled by.
"Strrriiike!"
Displayed on the scoreboard, the radar gun reading -- another luxury of playing in such a big venue -- said 60. Khloe just nodded, still that faint smirk showing under the helmet. She didn't think Morgan had probably ever thrown a riseball that fast in her life before now.
That's what I thought. Ain't got shit. And humpin' up just for me, huh? That's cute. Try that shit again, go ahead.
Morgan wound up again and grunted as she slung in another of her best attempts at a riseball.
Khloe swung, her hands quick to the ball to get on top of it, and easily pulled it into right-center. She was digging for two as soon as her foot left the box, even as she saw the center fielder in the corner of her vision cutting it off in the gap.
The ball came in just as Khloe hit the dirt, sliding into second base.
"Safe!"
She popped up and slapped her gloved hands together, pointing back to her cheering dugout -- immediately finding those brown eyes above the eye black.
"Fuck yeah! Let's fucking
go!
"
The next batter grounded out.
But Khloe could still feel it.
Seven innings from being champions.
***
Bot 1st
WILDKATS 0 1 0
LADY BOMBERS 0 0 0
Khloe windmilled her left arm and shot in another riseball, even higher out of the zone. The batter swung again. Strike two.
She snuck a glance at the scoreboard: 63 mph. She could pump it up higher, if she wanted. But she was just getting started.
They were always looking for her riseball. They had to be ready for the velocity and the movement. She knew that was the book on her.
It's an extremely difficult pitch to master. The speed is important, of course, but it's really about movement, about getting
just
the right angle and
just
the right backspin to make the ball seem to almost hit a rock in the air and shoot up when it's nearly over the plate --
just
above a batter's wide-eyed swing.
But Khloe's long, strong fingers were ideal to make the ball do what she wanted. And on the diamond, there was nothing she couldn't
will
to happen -- as long as she worked hard enough at it.
Other pitchers --
lesser
pitchers -- fell in love with their velocity. Khloe knew better. It was a weapon, like any other, but it was really just margin for error. She could throw 40 mph and succeed, as long as she hit her spots.
Today, she didn't have to choose one or the other.
She wheeled in a changeup that started just above the hips -- right where her riseball would strap a rocket to its ass and end up at the hitter's chin -- and the batter swung over it as the pitch faded down and inside instead.
Strike three.
Khloe didn't let out so much as a smile as Sierra started the ball around the horn. Instead, she turned to the second baseman and subtly signaled in front of her body.
Keep going. Keep going. Liiiittle more...stop. Right there.
Most pitchers her age -- most softball pitchers
any
age -- didn't get the kind of freedom to call their own game Khloe had. But Coach Lawson, just like her coaches in middle school, eventually relented. The results couldn't be ignored.
Sierra put down two fingers.
Dropball.
Khloe didn't even have to nod. They were
always
