Baseball

Cecelia was in an irritated mood as she walked home from school. She'd explained to the coach that she did do sport. Cheerleading was a sport. He wouldn't have a bar of it. All the girls had to try out for the new girl's baseball team he was putting together. All girls included cheerleaders, he said. I'm eighteen and in my last semester Cecelia had protested, not that it had done much good.

So she'd tried out for his silly team. She demonstrated that her woeful batting ability was equalled by her abysmal catching skills. The highlight came when he suggested she might be a pitcher.

Her first pitch had been straight but hadn't quite reached the batter. Throw it harder the coach had said. So she'd thrown it harder and the ball had sailed high and fast and in the wrong direction. Try again, said the coach. So she'd tried for a third time and her grip slipped, the ball went straight up and managed to come down behind her.

The coach had waxed sarcastic after that. There might be a worse player than her, somewhere in the world, he'd told her, but he would pray each night that he never met them. He had been the one who insisted that she try out, not her. If he wanted some forward flips she could do them. Cheerleading and acrobatics were fine. Throwing a ball? Who needed it?

Arriving home, Cecelia was strolling down the driveway when she nearly tripped. The fact that she'd tripped on her younger brother's baseball seemed to add insult to injury in her present state of mind. Muttering to herself about inconsiderate brats she picked up the ball and threw it down the yard as hard as she could.

She watched, irritated, as the ball sailed off at an angle, vanishing over the fence and into the neighbour's yard. Mike can just go and fetch it himself, she was thinking, when there was the sound of a crash and the tinkling of broken glass. With the sound of breaking glass came another sound.

"What the fuck?" cam an infuriated cry. "Mikey, you unspeakable little turd."

Before Cecelia could make good her escape there was a scrabbling sound from the fence and the head of their next door neighbour appeared over the top of the fence, a furious look on his face. Cecelia winced. Sam looked rather formidable at the best of times. This was plainly not the best of times.

She and Mikey had nicknamed Sam the Unlikely Hulk. You take a man with the height, bulk, and muscles of the incredible Hulk. You then place a hand on his head and compress him, knocking a good foot off his height but keeping all that beef and muscle. That was Sam. He looked as though he could bench-press a refrigerator - for his warmup.

"Where is he?" came the enraged demand. "I'm going to strangle him. I'll string him up by his thumbs and buy a stockwhip, just for him."

"He's not here," said Cecelia in a very small voice. "There's just me. It was an accident. Um, did something break? The ball didn't hit the house."

"No, it didn't. It scored a bullseye on the pane of glass I was carrying. Do you know why I was carrying a pane of glass?"

Cecelia shook her head.

"I didn't think so. It was because I needed that pane of glass to replace the window that Mikey broke yesterday. He didn't even give me a chance to install the blasted thing. I warned him that the next break was going to cost him. Where is he?"

"Um, at football practice, I think," Cecelia said.

Sam looked at her hard. No Mike meant someone else threw the ball. Easy enough to guess who.

"Come around here," he snapped. "Damned if I'm going to yell at you over the fence."

Sam vanished. Cecelia chewed on her lip. Should she go around and confront him or not? She'd better, she supposed. Otherwise he'd come around and complain to her parents. Dispiritedly, she dumped her bag next to the door and headed around to get her lecture.

Sam gave her a full voltage glare as soon as she turned up.

"I was doing the repairs myself because it's cheaper than getting a glazier in and the insurance excess is probably more than the pane of glass. Of course, the second pane of glass isn't covered by insurance as it wasn't on the house when it got broken."

Cecelia let him rant. Keep him talking and he'd eventually wind down and she could escape.

"What the hell were you doing with the ball, anyway?" he finally demanded. "I didn't think you were a baseball fan."

"Get real," Cecelia snapped indignantly. "As if! I nearly tripped over the ball and so I tossed it down the yard."

"Maybe so, but why choose my yard?"

"I didn't choose your yard. The ball just happened to go there."

"You mean that you threw the ball into your own back yard, quite a big yard at that, and missed?"

A hard done by look was all that Cecelia could manage. She was so over this. He might find the whole thing amusing but she didn't. As it was her father would probably dock her pocket money to cover the cost of the glass.

"I guess you can consider yourself lucky you're not Mikey," Sam told her. "I promised him a hiding if he was careless enough to break another window. I'd put you on the same warning but I doubt you'd be lucky enough to hit a window if you tried. Or the house," he added.

Cecelia gave him a nasty look. "Oh, yeah, I'd like to see you try, you fucking loser," she thought resentfully.

Sam's face resumed its angry look.

"I beg your pardon?" he said softly.

Cecelia blinked, shock stealing through her. She hadn't said that aloud, had she? From the look on Sam's face, she had.

Afterwards Sam was willing to concede that if the garden bench hadn't been right there next to him he would probably have contented himself with giving Cecelia a few more harsh words. As it was, he sat down, at the same time snagging hold of Cecelia's arm and jerking her across his knee.

With one swift motion Sam flipped Cecelia's dress up clear of her bottom and dropped two firm spanks upon that bottom. Oddly enough this was all it took to calm him down. Unfortunately, having Cecelia draped across his lap with her panties on display was also sufficient to bring his sense of humour to the fore.

"This is all wrong," he said dryly, giving Cecelia a feeling of deep relief. A short-lived feeling of relief, it turned out.

"If I'm going to spank you I should do it properly," he told her. "That means you won't need these."

With that he very calmly pulled Cecelia's panties down, while her eyes went wide with shock.

"What? You. I." All Cecelia could do was splutter, her face burning bright. He was looking at her bare bottom. Bare other parts, too. She hastily brought her hands around behind her, trying to cover herself up.

"Don't be silly," Sam reprimanded her, pushing her hands out of the way. "Now where were we?"

A couple more hard spanks landed on her bottom.

"You were careless and broke my window." A couple of more spanks. "You were rude to me instead of apologising." Spank. Spank. "Your language was not the sort of language I'd expect a nicely brought up young lady to use." Another couple of spanks.

Sam paused at this stage, his hand casually rubbing her bottom.

"Is there anything I've forgotten?" he asked, fingers idly massaging.

"No," Cecelia said with a gasp. "Ah, would you mind taking your hand away from there?"

"Eh?" Sam glanced down. Ah. It wasn't exactly her bottom he'd been massaging. Close enough, though, so he saw no reason to shift his hand.

"Well, all things considered, I think I've been very lenient," Sam said, his massaging becoming somewhat firmer. "I think I'm entitled to a little reward."

Cecelia squirmed about under his touch. Just what sort of reward was he thinking about? His continued massage of her mound was doing odd things to her. She almost screamed when a couple of fingers trespassed between her lips, investigating deeper.

Sam continued his gentle explorations for a few moments longer, watching the way Cecelia was reacting. Nodding thoughtfully, he swung her back onto her feet.

Cecelia looked at him, face flushed, feeling aroused but determined not to let him see that. How dare he do that to her?

"You do realise I'm not a child and you can't do that sort of thing to me?" she demanded.

"Cecelia, if you were a child I certainly wouldn't be doing that. The whole point is that you're not a child so this sort of thing is permissible."

Cecelia had another shock as Sam calmly undid his trousers and pushed them down. He had an erection, and Cecelia decided that she didn't fancy the look of that at all. She went to back away from him but he already had hold of her dress, drawing her nearer.

"This is rape," she protested. "You can't do this."

"I can do this and it's not rape," Sam returned.

"What do you mean, not?"

She was now standing very close to him, straddling him. Although she could no longer see it, she could feel his cock between her thighs. She was prepared to swear she could feel it brushing against her lips.

"Rape is when you take a woman against her wishes," Sam pointed out. "You haven't told me not to. If you do I'll stop. Bend your knees a little," he added, his hands behind them, tugging lightly.

Cecelia found herself bending her knees at his command. She promptly knew why. His cock was now most definitely pressing against her lips. If she wanted him to stop then now was the time to say so. A frisson of excitement ran through her. He wanted her. The size of his cock was evidence of that. Not that she'd let him do it, of course. But why shouldn't she let things go a little further before she said stop? No harm in that. Sam might get a little frustrated but serve him right.

His cock was making her lips move apart. He felt so hard and hot against her, making her feel weak in comparison. She was also feeling hot, not just in her pussy but all of her felt flushed and excited. Oh dear god, it was moving into her. It felt so strange, so big. She was going to have to say stop any moment now. Maybe when it touched her hymen, letting Sam know she was a virgin. That would get him really excited and be all the more of a letdown when she said enough. She was playing with fire, she knew, but it was all so exciting.

What happened next was not her fault, Cecelia just knew it. The annoying thing was that she couldn't blame Sam, either. He'd told her that all she had to do was say no. And she was going to. Really. She was just waiting for the right moment. She felt Sam's cock touching her hymen, starting to press against it, and she opened her mouth to say, "That's enough."

Her foot slipped. Maybe because Sam had been lowering her slowly and she moved it to get a better grip. She couldn't be sure. All she did know was that her foot seemed to shoot out from under her and she sank down quite abruptly. She'd grabbed hold of Sam with both hands, frantically getting her foot firmly on the ground, but the stab of pain she'd felt told her she was too late.

"So eager," murmured Sam, smiling, feeling himself moving deeper into her.

Cecelia was speechless. What - tell him she'd slipped and didn't mean to pop her cherry that way? Tell him it was time to stop? A bit fucking late, she thought, and fucking described it very accurately. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

She could feel him inside her. The pain had only been a momentary thing but that great slab of cock pushing up into her wasn't momentary. It was a constant presence and getting ever more present as it slid deeper into her. Strange feelings were running through her as it rubbed against her passage, going who knows how deep.

He had to stop she decided. She'd have to tell him that that was enough. But if she did she'd look like a fool. Really, who let a man prong them and then called a halt? Before he even touched her, that would have been fine. Before he popped her cherry would have been OK on her part, even if he would find it infuriating. But stopping after he'd taken her? What on earth would he think?

While Cecelia dithered Sam continued on his merry way, not rushing, but sliding fully into her. He almost laughed at the look of shock on her face when she found that their groins were rubbing against each other, his cock firmly in place. He stayed like that for the moment, letting her get used to what had happened. That's not to say he was idle. He undid her belt and slipped his hands up under it.

Cecelia was trying to come to terms with the fact that Sam was in her. He felt enormous and very, very, strange. She started when she felt his hands on her naked flesh, running up past her tummy. Reaching her bra, his hands slipped under the edge of it, lifting it up and off her breasts, letting them spill out into his waiting hands. Another shock for Cecelia that she had to come to terms with.

She had had boys try to touch her breasts through her clothes, under her clothes, trying to slip their hand into her bra, trying to undo her bra. This was the first time anyone had just pushed her bra up out of the way and grabbed her bare breasts. She wasn't sure what she thought of the situation. She twisted a little, trying to push away from those grasping hands, only to freeze in shock.

It wasn't just that Sam's hands were inside her dress, making it hard to move away from them. It was the fact that when she'd started moving she found she was moving around on Sam's cock, sending strange sensations rippling through her.

"Problems?" asked Sam softly, his hands rubbing her breasts, playing with her nipples.

Cecelia just looked at him. His hands were holding her breasts. His cock was, damn it, all the way inside her. What was she supposed to say? What was she supposed to do? She had no idea.

Sam didn't have that problem. He knew precisely what he was going to do as he proceeded to demonstrated. He moved slowly to begin with, just pulling back slightly and returning, no real movement at all to be truthful. More an application of some pressure and then a release of that same pressure. He watched Cecelia's face as he did so, seeing a slight surprise registering. Slowly he increased his movements, watching all the while, seeing Cecelia's expression changing from surprise to interest to the start of excitement and passion.

He was speaking softly as he moved, encouraging her, flattering her, teaching her, telling her what to do. His hands were massaging her breasts to the same slow rhythm that his cock was conducting, exciting her, getting her blood heated and coaxing responses from her body.

Cecelia was now moving against Sam in a dreamy state, her body rocking in time with the thrusting of his cock. She couldn't believe how fine this felt, lovely sensations slowly spreading through her body, each long slow thrust of Sam's cock building on the previous one, her whole body starting to light up internally.

Eventually Sam had to call enough. This slowly, slowly, was slowly killing him. His need was building and he really needed to get down to some serious work. He subtly increased the tempo, driving in just a little fast with each thrust, finding Cecelia eagerly moving with him. She was burning up, needing something more, and this increased pace just felt so right to her.

She clung to him, moving with him, letting passion have its way with her, doing everything that Sam wanted, her excitement almost too much for her to handle. She needed this and didn't want it to stop. Her nerves were strung out, her whole body seemed tense and the tension was building. She didn't know what was happening but she was only too willing to go along with it, eager to find where this path led.

Sam knew where the path led and it had reached a point where it was all downhill for him. He was steaming down that hill at full pace now, the brakes were off, the ending was in sight. He just hoped that Cecelia could keep pace with him up until the end. He climaxed, his seed spurting deep within Cecelia, idly noting that she was also climaxing, clinging to him and, damn it, biting his shoulder quite hard to prevent herself from screaming.

Afterwards Sam was feeling contentedly smug. Cecelia wasn't sure how she felt. Glowing and relaxed but not at all sure that what had happened should have happened.

"I can't believe that you did that," she muttered.

"What?" asked Sam incredulously. "Can't believe it? How can you not believe it?"

He was on his feet coaxing her to stand and started walking her towards his back door.

"It was the lack of foreplay that was the problem," Sam announced. "That and the fact that we had our clothes on. We'll just have to try it again," he told her, shepherding her into the house. "We'll have a nice shower and then I'll spend some time on some serious foreplay before I give you your next lesson. I'm sure I can make you believe it's happening this time."

He was still talking as he started undressing Cecelia, while she listened, watching her clothes drop away. What had she got herself into, she wondered? Could she still say no? Did she want to say no?

"I can still say no, can't I?" she finally asked.

"You can, I suppose," said Sam, sounding very dubious, "but why on earth would you? How can you broaden your horizons if you balk at every new experience that comes along?"

His hand was on her breast, stroking it, tweaking the erect nipple, while Cecelia looked down at it, fascinated by the size of his hand and comparing it to the delicate skin on her breast. She was already breathing hard and she suspected Sam was just warming up. He was right. Why on earth would she say no to this?