Stories

This is a story that was co-authored with a friend of mine. I have been thinking of writing a longer piece in this multiple first person point-of-view...What do you think??

PNC Park 

I stared at the blank cell phone in my hand and flipped it shut with a loud snap that echoed through my car. It took every shred of control I had not to heave it hard against the window, throwing it instead into the soft leather of the passenger seat.

"Son of a bitch," I whispered under my breath to no one in-particular.

I glanced out my driver's door window towards the ballpark to my left. The early evening crowd was already filling the parking lot as they streamed towards the entrance of PNC Park. The couples held hands, families with children gathered into small groups and I watched them all with bitterness and envy as I imagined walking into the park alone. I slipped my key back into the ignition and started the car as I looked up at the horizon above the field.

The evening sky was filled with magnificent shades and pinks and purples, taking my breath away and my thoughts suddenly turned towards the empty house that waited for me yet again and I realize I cannot bear another night alone. Unconsciously I made the decision to stay to watch the game, to enjoy the company of the crowd, to feel some semblance of human contact. I reached down, turned the key and my car became silent once more.

I stepped out of my car and immediately noticed the evening had become quite chilly. With only a pair of jeans and my favorite Pirate's t-shirt on I decided it might be best to grab the blanket from the trunk of my car. I hit the button on the key ring locking the doors with a beep of the horn and hit the second button popping the trunk open. I leaned over, grabbed the blanket and slammed the trunk shut. Without looking back, I slipped into the midst of the gathering crowd and headed towards the home of the Pirates.

I handed my ticket to the woman at the gate while the security guard checked my purse and blanket for hidden paraphernalia before pointing me in the direction of the far entrance. I closed my purse, flung it over my shoulder and walked slowly towards the entrance and the seats below.

The usher gave my ticket stub a cursory look and without a glance, led me down the stairs and pointed to a pair of empty seats about half way down the row. I had to walk in front of several people which is always annoying for me and I can only imagine how annoying for them. I made my way down the row pressing my hips firmly against the seats in front of me, attempting not to step on anyone's toes or put my ass into one of the spectators’ laps, until I finally reached the vacant seats. There were actually three vacancies there as I had not noticed the other seat before and I pulled my ticket stub out of my pocket to check and see which seat was actually mine. I noticed a large man who seemed to be taking up both his seat and half of the one next to him. I thought about the unused ticket in my back pocket and quickly slid one seat over and plopped down, hoping the man didn’t notice my hasty movement and think me rude.

As I sit down I catch a glimpse of a man sitting two seats over and my heart jumps in my chest as I notice his gorgeous blue eyes which happen to be looking my way. I can't help but grin at him but I quickly look away, embarrassed at my reaction and stare out at the field towards the players as they warm up. I can feel my cheeks have become flushed and my heart rate has jumped and I silently scold myself for acting like a silly school girl. I tell myself I am here to watch this game but I simply cannot resist a sideways glimpse to see the rest of him. My eyes are drawn to his legs and the muscles I can plainly see beneath and my breath catches in my throat. I am almost afraid to look any further but my curiosity has got the better of me and I raise my eyes over his hips, at his hands resting on his lap, up his chest and finally to his face. He is speaking to the person sitting in front of him and has a smile that could knock me flat. I think wow and hope I didn't say that out loud when he looks over at me again. Suddenly I am looking straight into those amazing blue eyes again and I can't seem to look away.

I bought the tickets three months ago, a special night at PNC Park.  No bobbleheads or fireworks; just a weekday night in late April.  I was dating Gina then; but that ended two weeks ago.  So I lost myself in work, billing serious hours, and forgot all about the game.

People joke that I'm the last Pirates' fan.  It's understandable after 17 losing seasons.  Still, they are my team; and even working late, I will have the radio on, listening, hoping.  Which is what I would have done by mistake tonight, except Carol, my secretary poked her head in to say good night and told me to have a good time at the game.

"The game?"

"Yes.  It's a good thing I keep your social calendar too.  You have tickets tonight."  And with that, she was gone.

I had an hour and two tickets.  I called four friends.  All busy or they never picked up.  I thought about calling Gina, but it had ended badly, and, well, she liked baseball even less than sex.   Fortunately, I had a carry-on bag stashed in the office, with some shorts, a golf shirt, sweater, socks and hiking shoes.  A quick change, and I was on my way.  PNC is a quick walk from the office.  On the way, I pulled out both tickets.  I stopped at a garbage can and tore one of the tickets into tiny pieces.  "You're on your own," I thought.  Not a bad thing.  I made it to my seat in plenty of time, a cold Penn Pilsener in my hand.  My seat looked out on the city.  Best view in baseball.

The umpires were collecting the lineups at home plate when I looked over at the aisle.  A blonde was making her way into my row.  Older.  Near my age, maybe.  But smoking hot.  You could see at once she was in great shape, with a Pirates' T-shirt that was very tight and very form fitting jeans.  I looked quickly to see who the stud was that had to be with her, but it was just her.  I thought immediately, though, of the Herbie Hancock/John Mayer lyric, "Girls like that don't sleep alone."  Still, no one was behind her.  Notwithstanding her dressed-down look, she exuded class as well as sensuality.  Which is hard to do when you're trying to navigate down a row of seats at a baseball game, holding a blanket, and stepping around some seriously fat guy, with french fries, hot dogs and Quaker State & Lube wings on his considerable lap.  (Why are so many baseball fans so freaking fat?)

When she got through, she looked up, directly at me.  Our eyes locked.  Blue on blue.

"Why don't you sit here, away from the the human spillover?" I said.

"You don't mind?"

"Actually nothing could make me happier."

And then she smiled.

"You have dimples?"

A full laugh now.  Loved the sound.

"Is that okay?"

"You have no idea."

I sit down slowly trying not to show my excitement or my nervousness. My breathing has become a little shallow and my heart is beating out a hard rhythm in my chest that I am afraid this man can hear as he is now close enough to touch.

I say hello and tell him my name. He repeats it back to me as if he has never heard the name before, sexy, deep, and in such a way that I can almost feel his hands on me.

I feel the color rising in my face and turn away quickly, hoping he takes no notice of the affect he is having on me.

I can feel myself grinning, the kind of grin that goes clear up into my eyes and I cannot seem to stop myself. I have always hated having dimples believing they made me look like a child when I wanted to look exotic but suddenly I have never been so glad to have them. My mind struggles to remember what he said about them but I my head is spinning and I am unable to focus on anything but how close his hand is to mine.

I notice the clothing that he is wearing and that even for a ballgame he has taken the time to look good. He is wearing a blue sweater that sets off his incredible eyes, making them impossible to ignore. I wonder for a moment if he realizes this and then decide that he does in fact know full well the effect of the sweater and judging by the looks of him, that he doesn't do anything by chance.

I remember what I am wearing and now wish I had picked out different clothes before leaving the house this morning.

Had I only known I would be sitting next to this guy...well that will teach you won't it? Fail to plan, plan to fail...shit..

But I can do nothing about my appearance now except make the best of it and I sit back in the seat, trying to relax and concentrate on the game on the field.

He leans over the seat to say something and I nearly miss it, the scent of him filling my head, and the gentle caress of his breath on my ear distracting me from the words he is whispering to me. His hand grazes my arm and I am immediately filled with electricity, shooting up the length of my arm, through my chest and down my spine like a bolt. Heat spreads throughout me and I am suddenly aware of how long it has been since I have felt this kind of passion, hungered for someone like this.

I silently gasp at the delicious pain that I feel, my body responding to his touch and my mind begins to wander as I wonder just how quickly I might get this guy out of the clothes that he is wearing.




"Two rules," I said.  "We don't do the wave, ever.  And we can't leave before the game ends; no matter how many extra innings, and....(go ahead, just say it you idiot, tell her)....and no matter how much I want to take you home."

Well, she didn't scoot back over to the fat guy and she didn't call an usher.  Instead, she said, "Fuck the wave".  And there were those dimples again.  Then she said, "May I have a sip of your beer?" 

"I can get you your own."

"No," she said.  "I want a taste of yours". 

Not a sip.  A "taste". 

And it was a taste that seemed to take hours.  Her tongue tracked the wetness on her lips.  "It's kind of like a kiss," she said.

"First Pirates hit, real kiss."

A second later, still wading in her eyes, I heard the crack of the bat that was an Andrew McCutcheon single.  Before I had a chance to move, she leaned up and kissed me: soft lips that lingered, her lips melting into my mine, and only then a hint of tongue.

"Are you sure about those rules?"

"No," I said.  "But I don't think I could stand up now if the wave came around.  And I have a feeling we'd be fools to leave."

I wondered for a moment if I heard him correctly, something about taking me home and my stomach tightened. I thought his words sounded almost hesitant, or perhaps he was trying to convince me as well as himself that his second decree might be open to negotiation. I grinned at the prospect of bending the rule a bit, already contemplating a way to seduce this incredible man in a crowded ballpark without getting either one of us arrested.

I could not have cared less about the wave at the moment and told him so in no uncertain terms, all the while watching him, loving the flash in his eyes when I spoke.

He brought his beer to his lips and suddenly no drink ever looked better to me. I wanted to taste it from his mouth but instead asked him for his cup which he politely offered to me.  I brought it to my lips and barely took a sip, wanting only to sample a part of him, feel the container that had touched his lips against my own.  I imagined his mouth on mine and felt heat spread through me as I returned his drink to him.

I teased him and said it was like a kiss, wanting to see his reaction to my words. But without hesitation he said that with the Pirates’ first hit there would be a real kiss. I wasn’t sure if he was kidding but seeing how this was the Pirates after all, that it might be awhile before I could take him up on his offer.

I turned toward the field and saw McCutchen up to bat. Two strikes down already and he hadn’t taken a swing yet. Christ, I whispered under my breath, this could be a short inning. I glanced at the dugout to see who was coming up next, praying for a miracle, when I heard the crack of a bat with a solid hit on a ball and watched as it dropped into the outfield. In a shot I was on my feet, screaming with the crowd, a joint celebration of the hit and his promise.  I looked over at him and the combination of his boy-like smile and the expression on his face was simply too delicious to resist.

Before he could say a word I leaned over and kissed him, gently at first, but the warmth that quickly filled my body as I touched his lips to mine sent me into overdrive and my kiss turned hungry. My tongue crossed his lips and I felt a sharp pain in my chest as he opened his mouth to me. I wanted more, so much more, but pulled back slowly before it would become impossible to stop, trying to catch my breath.

My body was on fire and the look in his eyes told me all I needed to know.

I wanted him now, forgetting about the crowd, forgetting where we were and I asked him about his rules.

He joked about not being able to stand if the wave did come around and glancing towards the field where McCutchen had made his way to third and Milledge was standing on second, said we would be fools to leave.

I had to laugh, this guy was a tough nut to crack but the night was young and I was in no particular hurry. I slid back into my seat and tried to concentrate on the game.

The night air felt cold on my hot skin and I unfolded my blanket to cover myself up, spreading it out across my legs. I looked out of the corner of my eye to try to see his face but he was watching the game again. I could see the edge of a slight grin and I wondered what he was thinking at that moment, what he was thinking about me in particular.

I leaned over so that my mouth was nearly touching his ear, and asked him if he would like to share my blanket as it was much warmer beneath it. He looked at me and I could see something stretch out across his face and it seemed as if those eyes suddenly turned a deeper shade of blue. Without a word he pulled the blanket across his lap and legs and reached for my hand entwining his fingers in mine. He squeezed my hand tightly, and just as slowly released his grip. He repeated this, again and again, sending waves of pleasure up my arm each time he did. It was erotic and sensual and made my legs weak but what it was doing between my thighs was even more incredible. I could feel my blood pulsing through me making me warm and ache all at the same time.

I am quite sure he knew the effect his touch was having on me as I my breathing had become quite heavy and shallow, my chest rising and falling quickly even as I tried pretending to watch the game. I suddenly felt him release his grip and at once his hand slipped between my thighs. It slid up the inside of my leg but not all the way and went back down to my knee, stroking me with a strong, firm grip.

I looked around us, sure that I would find people staring but it appeared no one noticed what he was doing or my heated reaction. I couldn’t even say what the score was but I saw a lot of people on their feet and guessed that it was probably getting interesting.

I wanted to touch him, feel the hardness of his cock in my hand, and I reached across the seat to his thigh. His leg was bare below the knee and I ran my hand just slightly inside of his shorts, rubbing his leg. Even from there I could tell he was already quite hard, his shorts tight enough now to not allow my hand up any further.

His fingers moved further up my leg with each stroke, teasing me through my now very hot, and very damp jeans. In what seemed forever he reached the top of my thigh and pressed his hand hard against my clit sending my hips involuntarily towards his touch. I moaned softly, biting my lip to an inadequate attempt to keep quiet.

Without thinking, forgetting where we were, forgetting that people were all around us, my hand went up his leg and grabbed his cock, hard.

The Spring night chilled, but did nothing to cool my persistent erection.  She opened her blanket and tucked herself in.  I imagined her naked underneath, stretching and opening her legs, feeling my cockhead sliding into her wet cunt lips, her nipples hard against my chest as I drove my cock full-length into her, making her plead, "fuck me, fuck me, fuck my cunt, yes, yes...."  And as the images swirled I did hear her voice, at my ear, that sensation alone causing me to harden to a full stiffness.  "Want to share my blanket?" 

Without answering, I pulled the blanket over and found it comfortably big enough for two.  Our hands met.  But she pulled my hand to the very center of her, so I slid mine out and to her thigh.  She certainly didn't resist.  I wanted her legs bare but soft moans told me she was fine with my hand sliding against denim.  When I reached her crotch I felt an unmistakable dampness.  She bit her lip, her eyelids narrowed and I felt her hand on my thigh.  She slid it up and inside my hiking shorts, inside my boxers.  My cock, I think, reached for her, or seemed to as her fingers encircled it.  I never felt so large, so hard.  A Louisville Slugger that she was boning for the next at bat. 

I wanted to feel my fingers sliding into her wet cunt.  Wanted the smell and taste of her pussy.  But she had taken control now.  I reached down and unzipped my shorts.  She pulled the boxers down under my balls.  Her hand tightened around the base of my shaft.  No amateurish sliding back and forth.  This was a vise with a purpose.  I wanted her mouth so badly.  Wanted to feel my cockhead at the back of her throat.  But her cool hand against my hot cock, pulling it as she leaned her tits into me, was working.

"Baby, I'm so close.  Do you want me to come?"

His words spun my head and my body out of control. I released his stiff cock from my grip and in one swift movement had my jeans undone and slipped down just below my hips. I pushed the armrest that separated us up and out of the way, leaving nothing between but open space.

I shifted my body slightly towards him and draped one leg between his thighs. I shifted again and moved myself closer still until I was practically on his lap. He adjusted accordingly and suddenly I could feel his hard cock pressing against my bare ass, his cockhead just inside my wet, throbbing cunt. I knew if I moved any further he would be completely inside of me and I hesitated for a moment.

I leaned my body back against his chest and whispered into his ear.

"I need you to fuck me hard baby."

With that she slid her body backwards.  My cock was never this hard.  She eased her cunt over my cockhead and stopped right there.  "I need you to fuck me hard, baby."  But it was her.  She slowly eased back, my cock filling her inch by inch.  I could smell the scent of her cunt.  She ground herself on my cock.  I reached around and felt her clit.  Let it roll between my fingers.

"My cock feels so fucking good in your cunt.  Love filling your cunt.  Perfect, baby."

She started riding me.  The circumstances prevented violent thrusts.  But she was making up for that by slow rhythmic grinding, her cunt dancing to some unheard stripper song.

I increased the pressure of my fingers on her clit.  "Come for me , Baby, fucking come for me."  And she did, almost silently, just her breath catching, but below, she squirted in over my hand.  Soaked.  And, impossibly, she ground her cunt even more, with my cock so hard I felt I was crossing even deeper into her.  She seemed to know my cock as well, better than I did, and just then, she clamped down hard, squeezing my cock.  I spasmed and shot hot come, a massive load, like a line-drive home run.  Deep inside her.  And then another and another.  "Fuck."  "Jesus."  I couldn't tell you who said what, or if we spoke together, reflexively saying the same words.

I couldn't have told you the score at that moment, or even which teams were playing.  I didn't feel the cold of the night, but I tucked the blanket more firmly around us.  My cock stayed hard, and stayed inside her.  But now we were just a couple, a woman on a man's lap, bundled up on a chilly night in Pittsburgh, at an early season Pirates' game, when there was still hope. 

At least that was what I saw when I looked up at the large scoreboard in left-field.  It was between innings.  Joe Cocker's "You Can Keep Your Hat On" was playing.  When we kissed, I thought I heard more than a little applause.

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