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Message-ID: <44786asstr$1066266606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Frank Downey" <fabfour.fan@verizon.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2003 15:58:57 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} The Curse of the Bambino, Part Six--by Frank Downey (MF)
Date: Wed, 15 Oct 2003 21:10:06 -0400
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Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All rights reserved. Any use other than
personal archiving requires the permission of the author. Do not repost.

This story contains adult material. If this is illegal where you reside or
if you are underage where you reside, begone.

THE CURSE OF THE BAMBINO
CHAPTER SIX

TUESDAY, OCTOBER FOURTEENTH
GAME FIVE

I actually went to Callie's room at 3 pm. I only had two classes on
Tuesdays-and it was a good thing, as I wasn't all that alert in them. I kept
thinking of what had happened the night before. And, no, not about the Sox'
fantastic performance, as gratifying as that was.

Anyhow, I got to her room-and got a backslide. Not that I was shocked by
that, mind you. A lot had happened the day before. She was reevaluating.
When I got there, and sat on her couch-she didn't just sit at the opposite
end of the couch. No, she didn't even sit on the couch at all-she went right
for the desk chair, which was practically across the room.

I suppose I should've been irritated. And I guess I was, a little. Hell, she
had taken a huge couple of steps the day before-but she was also judging me
based on those other asshole guys. That didn't thrill me. But, yeah, I did
understand, a little. I especially understood the significance of the
number. She'd had her heart broken by three guys. We were both baseball
nuts, remember? Three strikes and you're out.

And I got that. What I needed to convince her to get was that-even when you
strike out, you get back to the plate for your next at-bat. Because that
next at-bat could be the game-winning homer.

So, there I was, in her room, with her clear on the other side of it.
Looking at me warily. I shrugged that off and we talked about everything
except 'us.' Mostly about baseball.

Yankees fans just do not get it, and she was no exception. What I told her
to get the point across was this: "You're what, nineteen? You've seen the
Yankees win four World Series in your lifetime. I have a grandfather who is
seventy-two and has never seen the Sox win it all. Yankees fans just do not
realize how important this is to us."

"Nobody told you to be a Red Sox fan," she grinned.

"You think anyone chooses to be a Red Sox fan?" I snorted. "You don't choose
it, you're born into it. It's hereditary. It's part and parcel of being from
Boston. If you're Boston born and bred, you're either a Red Sox fan, or you
don't like baseball-or you're a damn traitor. If you're from Boston and you
root for any other baseball team other than the Red Sox; well, it's like
being an American watching the Olympics and rooting for Russia. In fact, it'
s worse than that."

I took a breath. "In 1986, I was two years old. My Dad got me out of bed
because he wanted me to remember-even if I really couldn't-that I was
watching when the Red Sox finally won it all. And then the ball went through
Buckner's legs. My mother tells me that when he put me back to bed, he was
crying. And a Yankee fan will never get that-because you all feel entitled
to winning."

"This means more to you than it does to me, doesn't it? Even without the
bet."

"Yes," I agreed. "Plus, this is a pretty special Red Sox team."

She didn't say anything else, but, as the game started, she got up out of
the desk chair and sat down on the couch. Right next to me. I put my arm
around her and she sighed.

I was glad she was there-even if she was a damn Yankees fan-because the game
unraveled quickly. Derek Lowe had one bad inning-but one bad inning was all
it took. The Yankees got 3 off of him in the second, and that's all they
needed, because the Red Sox were just not hitting. Guys like Mueller and
Millar and Ortiz-guys that had carried them all year-had gone straight into
the deep freeze. And the less said about Nomar Garciaparra, the better. I
don't think he'd swung the bat this feebly since Little League.

God, it was depressing-because I saw the whole series flash before my eyes.
We now needed to win the last two-and that's with John Burkett, who sucks
generally but really sucks against the Yankees; and Pedro, who pitched game
three like a guy with a bum shoulder. And with the bats gone hibernating

In other words-it was over. We needed this one. We didn't get it. It just
sucked.

Remarkably, Callie was rather subdued in her post-game celebration. She only
whooped and hollered a little bit. Grinning, she said to me, "I'm a lifelong
Yankees fan and I always will be. But, after what you told me earlier, I
promise not to gloat. Celebrate, yes-gloat, no."

"Thank you so much," I said, deadpan. She giggled. Then I joked, "Well I
guess I'm one game away from administering a blowjob."

You've heard the expression, "her face fell"? Well, Callie's face dropped a
hundred feet when I made that blow job crack. "Oh, God, I forgot," she
hissed. "After yesterday, I forgot."

"Huh?"

"Look, Mitch. Why do you think I picked that particular payoff for your end
of the bet?"

"Well, I figured it was either that you were trying to come up with
something horrific so I'd back off; or, that seeing a guy give another guy
head turned you on," I laughed.

"Well, there was some of the first-but none of the second. In fact, the
exact opposite of the second."

She took a breath. "Look, this isn't a value judgment. I love Tim, I think
he's great, and what he does in his own bedroom is his business. But I can't
think of anything more of a turn off for me than two guys together. It makes
me sick just thinking about it."

"But part of your bet was that you had to watch," I said.

"Exactly," she hissed. "Because I wanted to be turned off. I guess I was
hoping that if I saw you sucking Tim off, it'd cure me." I just looked at
her until she continued. "It would cure me of the overpowering attraction I
have for you. Well, after the past couple of days, I don't think it matters
much. It was probably going to be futile, anyhow. But it was nasty and cruel
and underhanded, and I'm so sorry I even thought of it."

I thought about that for a minute. Talk about drastic measures! Then, it hit
me.

"How long?" I asked.

"What?"

"How long have you been in love with me?"

She looked at me, startled-then admitted it. "Since midway through first
semester last year. I figured it out before you did."

"And you've been fighting it ever since."

"Yeah."

"What's changed? It can't just be the bet."

"Partially," she said. "But you going to bed with Melanie-well, that was a
wake-up call. I still don't know if Mel thought of it that way or was trying
something devious-but it worked. It was a slap in the face. And you turning
her down the next day was, as I said, a real eye-opener."

I digested that for a bit. Then I said, "So, what do we do now? After we
call off the bet, of course."

"We're not calling off the bet," she said.

"We're not?"

"No. I'm conceding."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm conceding. I forfeit. You win."

"Callie, the Sox have no chance."

"That doesn't matter. I'm forfeiting." She took a deep breath, then shot me
a shaky smile. "That means you win the terms of the bet."

HUH? She didn't say what I thought she just said, did she? Well.... "OK,
then. Do you think we should arrange a time for me to claim my prize?"

She took a number of deep breaths, swallowed, then managed to say, "Well, I
was thinking right now would be good."

"Did you just say what I think you did?" I blurted.

She looked right into my eyes. "I said, that if you want to claim your
prize, now would be a good time. Please don't make me say it again!"

I didn't. I kissed her instead, long and hard. She eagerly returned the
kiss, as our lips massaged one another's and our tongues darted in and out.
I rubbed up and down her back as she put her hands on my sides.

Then, she was tugging on my shirt-quite eagerly. I went to the buttons of
her blouse. We got our hands tangled up, giggled, and disengaged. She got my
shirt off, then I got her blouse off. Then her bra.
Oh, man-her breasts were perfect. Not too big, not too small, very firm,
with nice prominent nipples. I couldn't help it-I found myself staring.

"Something wrong?" she breathed.

"The exact opposite. I have waited too long for this, I don't plan to rush."
She giggled at that. Then she stood up.

"Come here," she said, "this couch is going to get uncomfortable real soon."
She led me to her bed. We sat on it, and I reached for her and kissed her
again. While our lips locked, I ran my hands up and down her breasts. She
sighed into my mouth. I pushed her down on the bed, so she was on her back.

As I fondled her breast, I let my lips run away from hers, down her cheek,
along her neck, and up to her earlobe. I took her earlobe between my lips
and gently pulled on it. My hand was still rubbing her boob.

"This isn't going to be a quickie, is it?" she sighed softly.

"Are you kidding?" I whispered in her ear with a chuckle. She giggled back,
and then sighed, as I nibbled on her earlobe some more. Then I worked my way
back down, down her neck, over her shoulder-and aimed my mouth right at her
nipple.
Damn, it was erect! Just perfect for sucking and nibbling on. And, boy, was
Callie responding to that. She was gasping and all flushed, and she was
running her hands through my hair. I let my hand drift down to her thighs.
Lucky for me, she was wearing a skirt. My hand crept up her skirt as I kept
my mouth on her nipple. I got all the way up her thighs, and she spread her
legs, just a bit. She was gasping and wheezing as I sucked on her boob. I
lightly traced my finger up and down her pussy through her panties. Those
panties were drenched! And, then, as my finger made another tracing,
something stunning happened.

She whinnied. Her hand pushed my head into her boob and she thrust her pussy
into my hand. Then she hiccuped a breath, squeaked out an "OH!", and her
hips came right off the bed. I looked up and her eyes were glassy, but wide
open in what I guessed was surprise. Or shock.

I was shocked myself. "You didn't," I said.

"I did," she gasped. "A little one, but that was definitely an orgasm."

"From just that?"

"Don't ask me to explain it, that's never happened before!" she gasped.

Wow, was all I could think. I went back to sucking on her boob, but my hands
reached for the waistband of her skirt. She raised her hips and allowed me
to get it off. The panties came next. I now had bare pussy under my fingers,
and I gently fondled and stroked it. She was gasping for air again, moaning
softly.

I left her boob-ignoring her groan-and started working my lips down her
stomach. She giggled a little-I must have hit a ticklish spot-but mostly
gasped as I kept going, down her stomach. I kissed and nibbled on the inside
of her thighs, then headed for paydirt.

Damn, she tasted good. I ran my tongue up and down her swollen labia, and
dipped into her opening, circling my tongue around the inside of it. She
moaned, low and loud, as I kept my tongue working on her opening. Then, I
drew it up, and slowly circled her clit. "GOD, Mitch!" she hissed, as I
licked and nibbled her clit. "Unnnnnngggggg! Unggggggg! Oh MITCH!" and then
she was going again-and this one didn't look to me like a little one.

As she came down off of it, she grabbed my hair, pulled my head up by it,
and yelped, "Oh, God, Mitch, FUCK ME NOW!" I moved up between her legs to
oblige-then it hit me.

"Oh, shit, Cal, I don't have anything!"

"Are you clean?"

"I should be. Was the last time I checked. And I've never not used a
 condom."

"Neither have I," she grinned, "but I don't want to with you. I'm on the
pill, so no worries there."

"OK," I said, and moved in between her legs. I positioned my dick at her
entrance, and slowly slid in. She was still drenched, so I slid in nice and
easy. She was really wet, and hot, and tight. I hit bottom, and, as I
settled myself, she wrapped her arms and legs around me, grinning.

"Oh, you feel so good inside me," she gasped.

"I'm glad you feel that way," I grinned, and pulled out. Then I slowly slid
myself back in. She clenched her eyes shut and moaned. I went slow and
steady for a bit, then picked up the pace. She was moaning and squeaking on
every downstroke. I could feel her start to build up again.

"Are you close?" She nodded her head in quick jerks. "Open your eyes." They
flew open. "Look right here. Look into my eyes. I want you looking at me
when you cum."

"Oh MITCH!" she gasped, her eyes wide open now.

"That's it, Callie. I want you to look into my eyes, and cum for me."

"GOD! MITCH! OH GOD! MITCH! MITCH!" she moaned, and then she came, bucking
and moaning underneath me-still looking right into my eyes. That sight
pushed me right over. I collapsed on top of her, both of us wheezing for
breath.

"Am I crushing you?" I said after a minute.

"Yes. Don't stop," she giggled.

I laughed back and got off her anyway, rolling to my side and taking her
with me. "Why oh why did I wait a year for that?" she asked.

"Well, I didn't have any choice in waiting. But it was worth the wait."

"Oh, you," she sighed happily.

We both decided we were famished-it was almost 9 pm and we hadn't eaten
since lunch-so we ordered a pizza. Inhaled it, while watching a little of
the other game-the Cubs could've clinched but blew it-then retired back to
the bed for round two.

After round two, cuddling, she said, "Don't leave."

"Good plan," I agreed. We discussed schedules, we both had an 8:30 class the
next morning, so she set her alarm for 6:30. We turned the lights on and
snuggled into one another.

Just before we fell asleep, she said, "I propose a side bet."

"Really?"

"Yeah. For tomorrow's game. If the Sox win, you get to do me again."

"And if the Yankees win?"

She giggled. "I get to let you do me again."

"It's a bet!"

(No, it ain't over. To be continued)

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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