Brad's Road Trip Ch. 14

"Jesus, Brad," she said, panting. "I want you to cum inside me so bad."

"Uh uh," I said. "That's only for nice girls. That'll be the first time. But you've been naughty, Kelly. And naughty girls get cum all over their tits, their neck and their face."

She groaned. It was a long, drawn out noise that made it clear to me that it was time to move on.

"Fuck, I can't see straight right now," she mumbled.

"So close your eyes," I ordered. "Problem solved."

"Not even close."

"Aww," I chided. "Is my horny little slut of a girlfriend frustrated? Does she need my help?"

"Please," she pleaded. "I've been so good. Haven't touched myself once since you said... please, Brad!"

"Louder."

"PLEASE, BRAD!"

"Tell me, Kelly," I said, getting an idea. "Are you wearing panties?"

She muttered something in the vicinity of "yes."

"I like picturing that tight, toned dancer's body in panties," I said. "In fact, I like picturing you wearing nothing but panties."

We were so in tune with each other that I knew I didn't have to ask. Sure enough, I heard more rustling on the other end.

"Naked now," she stammered. "Except panties."

"Good," I said. "I love watching a girl play with herself wearing nothing but panties. Naked is always good, but I like when you leave just a little, tiny bit to the imagination."

She just moaned. I hadn't told her she could touch herself yet, so I had no doubt she was holding off. Hopefully she got the message now.

"I love when you slip those fingers inside the waistband... seeing the outline of your hand against that pink cotton or black silk as you're strumming your clit... just a little bit at first, of course... can't have you exploding right away."

She was just about purring into the phone.

"I bet your body is flushed from head to toe," I guessed. "Your breasts are bouncing up and down because you're breathing so hard. If I licked your collarbone, I'd taste just a hint of perfume, but mostly sweat. Then if I licked my way down your body, I'd... well, what would I taste, Kelly?"

"My pu.. pussssssy," she stuttered.

"Is it all primed and ready for me, sweetie?" I asked.

"So wet, Brad," she said.

"Excellent," I said, stealing her trick and spreading a three-syllable word out over 10 seconds. "Go back to what I told you about our first time and our second time. Shove your fingers up into that dripping snatch, and tell me what you think about my plans."

A few moments later, I was rewarded with even more ear-splitting screams.

*********************************

Johnny Rosenblatt Stadium was one of America's last classic ballparks. Situated in the southern part of Omaha, Nebraska, just a few blocks west of the Missouri River, it was the home field for the Omaha Royals, the top minor league team for the Kansas City Royals. It also hosted the NCAA College Baseball World Series, which had just finished up a few days before. In fact, tonight's game against the Colorado Springs Sky Sox was the Royals' first home game in more than two weeks, thanks to the college tournament.

As such, the place was packed. Most minor league stadiums hold five, maybe six thousand fans, tops. This place seated more than 8,000 fans, and I was guessing it would be a sellout. It didn't hurt that the team was doing well -- even though the Kansas City Royals were right up there with Cubs among the worst teams in professional sports, their minor-league affiliate was surprisingly still in first place halfway through June. Even walking along the stadium concourse prior to the game, I had to elbow my way through packs of fans.

There was an internet rumor going around that the old park was going to be replaced soon by some new cookie cutter thing closer to the downtown area, and that made me sad. Of course, I'm not from Omaha, and at 22, I guess I was still a little young to be overly nostalgic. Still, the phasing out of old-school, historic ballparks in favor of brand new structures that you could barely tell apart was not a new phenomenon. Even my beloved Braves had opened up a brand new stadium a few years ago.

I liked the way everything was outside at Rosenblatt, like the other older stadiums. The new parks were basically baseball fields attached to huge, glass-covered office buildings, with even the concession stands being indoors. Not here. The snack bars were lined up along the concourse, with various stands for memorabilia, programs, etc. The team offices and maintenance areas had doors leading out to the concourse. There were doors to the press box and private suites, of course, but even those opened up to an outdoor walkway as opposed to a hallway ripped from the local Days Inn.

Apparently, I was getting old.

I was in something of a somber mood when I finally found my seat, in the middle of the eighth row behind the visiting dugout. All the sections behind the net were full, so I had close neighbors. To my right was a pair of married couples. From what I could gather through eavesdropping, the men were business bigwigs in Omaha, and their wives were of the trophy variety. They seemed nice enough, but I was more interested in the group on my left.

They were five friends stuck on campus at Nebraska-Omaha for summer classes, and out at the park trying to forget that they should have been back home enjoying a summer break. Whitney and T.J. occupied the seats next to the aisle, the farthest from me. The way they talked to and looked at one another, it was easy to see that they were a couple. The fact that they barely had time to talk between all the tonsil hockey was a sure sign, too.

Next to them was Jerry, the loudest and most obnoxious of the group, but in a good way. The opposing players only made it to the third inning before they got visibly annoyed with all his heckling, but everyone around us was in stitches from laughing at his jokes.

Everyone except Brian, sitting next to Jerry. He didn't find it funny when Jerry made fun of someone's name, and he didn't stand up and cheer when the Royals hit a three-run homer in the second inning. He'd barely touched his first beer, while the rest of us were on our third, at least. With his friends, he was simply grumpy and standoffish, but when I tried to make conversation with him, he was downright hostile.

I didn't really give too much of a fuck, though, because sitting between Brian and I was Shannon, a spicy little blonde whose petite frame was absolutely no match for all the beer she'd been drinking. She was maybe 5 feet tall and wouldn't have weighed more than 100 pounds if I'd dunked in her the artificial waterfall I was sure they'd build at the new, boring stadium. Her face was flushed from a combination of the heat and the alcohol, and she'd been flirting with me heavily since I sat down. Whenever I'd talk to her, she'd find an excuse to hang her arm over mine or push our legs together.

She was plenty attractive, but I had no intentions of doing anything with her, so I just tried to gently brush her off.

Then the stupid fucking Kiss Cam happened.

You know what I'm talking about. During a break in play at any sporting event, the music guy plays crappy, sappy love songs -- Mariah Carey's "Dreamlover" was tonight's poison of choice -- and the camera folks search the crowd for any lovebirds they can put on the spot, leaving them up on the video screen until they either kissed or the crowd booed them enough.

It's a nice concept, except when you consider that with 8,000-plus people in attendance, odds are that at least a few of the guys and girls sitting next to each other in the crowd aren't in the habit of kissing each other at all, not to mention in front of an audience. I'd actually seen a situation like that get bloody in San Antonio. The Marine detachment worked security for a lot of Spurs games, and one time, the Kiss Cam fell on a guy and girl sitting in the upper tier. The guy was one Dos Equis from liver failure and figured, 'What the hell,' so he grabbed the girl and proceeded to shove his tongue down her throat. The whole arena cheered until the girl's boyfriend, sitting on her other side, took issue with the whole thing and replaced his girlfriend's tongue with his fist. The first guy got taken to the hospital with a broken nose and fractured jaw, and the second guy got booked on assault charges -- all because of the Kiss Cam.

I'm not sure if it was because I was thinking of that story, or because the Kiss Cam was just generally my least favorite thing about live sports, but sure enough, after a few couples had done their duty, the camera fell on Shannon and I.

I didn't want to lead her on, but I didn't want to get booed, either, so I leaned in to give her a friendly peck on the cheek. Shannon had other ideas, turning her face at the last possible second so that my kiss on the cheek turned out to be a steamy liplock in front of 8,000 of our closest friends. She thrust her tongue into my mouth immediately, and mine involuntarily responded to it.

The whole stadium cheered when we were finished, with especially raucous applause coming from the people right near us. I even heard T.J. scream "Go, Shannon!" at the far end of the row.

Brian had been pissed at me all night, but now he looked like he wanted to strangle me. I didn't have time to say anything about it, because before the next inning started, Shannon stood up and extended her hand to me.

"C'mere," she said, then led me past her friends and onto the stairs leading to the concourse.

"Bring her back in one piece," Whitney quipped as I slid by her, and when I looked back to answer her, I saw Brian staring at Shannon as she climbed the stairs. I thought about how angry he'd looked right after our kiss, and I finally figured out his problem.

"Will do," I answered Whitney, then hurriedly caught up with Shannon.

"Where we going?" I asked.

"Don't care," she said, reaching up and pulling my head down for another kiss. "You're gonna find somewhere private, tear my clothes off and fuck me."

"Shannon, you really can't go around being so passive in life," I joked. "Sometimes you just have to be aggressive and go after what you want."

"I want you," she said, either not getting the joke or not caring. "It's been almost six months for me, since my stupid ass boyfriend back home dumped me. I want you right fucking now, and the longer you take to get started, the less I care about privacy."

I had a plan, but if I didn't do something right now we were both going to get arrested for public indecency. I took her hand and we started jogging toward left field. Walking around the stadium before the game, I'd noticed a maintenance door in a little alcove between two concession stands. I had no idea if it was unlocked or not, but I figured that was my best bet.

As fate would have it, two stadium workers were leaving the little room when we got there, one of them carrying a tool box and the other balancing a ladder on his shoulder. As they headed down the concourse, I shot my hand in and caught the door before it closed.

Shannon wasted no time pulling her yellow tank top off. She wasn't wearing a bra, and I couldn't help but notice that her B-cup tits were about as red as her face. I mean, I wasn't going to take advantage of her, but come on. I'm a male, and they're tits. I noticed.

"Why me?" I asked. I could instinctively feel the Men's Leadership of the State of Nebraska pulling my man card for asking such a stupid question.

Shannon seemed a little puzzled too, but she answered. "I told you. It's been too long. I'm horny, you're hot, and you're here."

She reached for my shirt, but I managed to keep her hands at bay.

"What about Brian?"

She smiled at the name. There was at least a little something there, I thought.

"Brian?" she asked, rolling the name around on her tongue for a second. "He's cute. Good guy, too. But not here."

"Hold that thought," I said. "Get comfortable. Be right back."

I wedged the door open just a crack so she didn't boil in the tiny room, then sprinted back toward my seat. I was halfway down the stairs when I called for Brian's attention. He looked back at me and glared daggers, but when I motioned for him to come with me, the look turned to confusion. As soon as he stood up and started moving toward me, I headed back up the stairs. By the time he caught up to me, we were halfway back to the maintenance room.

"Where's Shannon?" he asked. I didn't answer until we arrived.

"In here," I said, thumbing toward the door.

"What?" he asked. "Why?"

"She's waiting for me," I said. His face flared up. "But I'm not going in there. You are."

He just blinked at me.

"She just wants somebody, Brian," I said. "It wasn't necessarily me; I just happened to be the one she got caught on camera with. She told me she thinks you're cute, and when I asked why she wasn't doing this with you, she said, 'He's not here.' You're here now."

His face changed in an instant. Gone was the angry, pissed-off Brian who'd been trying to decapitate me with a glare all evening. In his place was a nervous, shy guy who wasn't really sure what he was doing. He wasn't completely clueless, because he took a tentative step toward the door.

"Look," I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Behind that door is a woman who knows what she wants. You don't have to sweet talk her; you don't have to romance her. There'll be plenty of time for that later. You just have to take charge. Be confident and in control. Walk in there like of course, you're the one who's supposed to be in there with her, because nobody else could do it better. You do all that, and she'll melt for you."

He grinned at me and gripped the doorknob.

"Just do it quickly," I said. "Not sure how long before the maintenance guys will want their room back. I'll hang out and play lookout."

She gasped in surprise when he stepped inside, and I definitely heard her moan before the door closed behind him. I walked back onto the concourse and pulled out my phone. I had one voicemail, from the person I most wanted to hear from.

"Oh God, Brad," she moaned, and I was instantly rock-hard. "You mindfucked me better than anyone else has ever actually fucked me. I've been at work for four hours, and I think I would cum again from a stiff breeze on my clit. Do you know how hard it is to work a lunch rush when your mind is 1,000 miles away? Anyway, I hope you're working on story time. Can't wait to cum for you again tonight."

That was a better way to end a voicemail than any "see ya" or "bye" I'd ever heard. I knew she'd be in the middle of dinner rush by now, but I called anyway.

"I'm glad you enjoyed my little tease earlier," I told her voicemail. "I can't wait to act out everything I said. And no, I'm not working on story time. I could have been, but I passed. I'll tell you why later. I'm at a baseball game, and I miss you like fucking crazy. If I could skip the rest of this trip in exchange for you being here with me right now, I'd have done it yesterday."

In my periphery, the sun glinted off something metal. I looked and saw the ladder, being carried by one of my maintenance buddies.

"Anyway, I need to get going, but I can't wait to make you cum for me tonight, either."

I hung up and knocked on the door. "Incoming. You have about a minute." I could hear the telltale moans and groans of impending climax. I hated that I had to speed up their first time like this, but it was better than spending a night in jail.

The maintenance guys were no more than 50 feet away now, and just when I thought I'd have to do something to stall them, the door creaked open behind me. I quickly pulled them both into one of the snack bar lines as the maintenance guy went for his keys.

"You guys have fun in there?" I asked, not really needing an answer.

"You don't know," Shannon said with a smirk. "We could have just been talking."

"When I left, you were not in the mood for talking," I said. "So if that's all y'all did, I'm sorely disappointed in you, Brian. But I'm pretty confident that's not what happened, because just talking wouldn't explain why your shirt's on backwards, Shannon. Nor would it explain why Romeo over here looks like he just rubbed baby oil all over his face."

She just high-beamed a smile back at me, and Brian wore a guilty grin as we headed back to our seats.

***********

"I'm guessing he was nice to you the rest of the game?" Kelly asked a few hours later.

"He was, for some reason," I joked. "Although, he didn't really pay me much attention the rest of the way."

"I bet he didn't," she laughed.

I was in my hotel room about half an hour west of the stadium. I had a long, long drive west in the morning, so I figured any head start was better than nothing.

"So why was he being such a jerk all game?" she asked.

"Jealousy," I said. "He's had a thing for Shannon for longer than she's been single. Apparently, he tried to ask her out once during school, but she gave him the well-worn 'I have to wash my hair' excuse. Like most guys would have, Brian recognized it for the brush off it usually is and never tried again."

"But..."

"Apparently, Brian had caught Shannon right after her chemistry lab and asked her out," I said. "Her lab partner had spilled some chemicals in her hair."

Kelly started laughing uncontrollably. "She... she..."

It was clear she wasn't going to finish it, so I did.

"Yes. She actually did have to wash her hair." I waited a bit longer for her to stop laughing. It was such a soothing, pleasurable sound that she could have kept going for an hour and I'd have let her. "Anyway, she figured he would ask again, but he never did, and she didn't realize he thought she'd blown him off."

"You didn't know that before the fact, though," Kelly said. "So why didn't you fuck that hot little blonde in the maintenance room? You're not holding out on me, are you?"

"No," I said. "Before she dragged me up the stairs, I managed to figure out that Brian's hostility had less to do with me and more to do with how Shannon was acting toward me. I'm all for gratuitous sex, especially when I can come home and share it with you. But I don't live here, and they do. I've gotten close a couple times on this trip, but I try very hard not to screw up people's lives with my extra-curriculars. He deserved a shot at her."

"That's noble of you, Brad," she said. "You realize most men are throwing her up against the wall, pounding the hell out of her and not giving it a second thought, right?"

"Most men are also cumming in about 17 seconds and leaving her frustrated," I said. "I'm not most men. Thankfully, neither is Brian. I got the impression that he didn't get off in the maintenance room. I could tell that he'd made her cum all over his face."

"I'm sure she'd have given him his if they hadn't been pressed for time," she said, and I grunted an agreement. "Anyway, that's a good reason to pass, babe."

"That was the reason I gave them, but it wasn't my biggest reason," I said. "Even if Brian wasn't there, I wouldn't have done it. I wasn't gonna leave a woman in need hanging, but I would have had to find someone else to handle it."

"Why?"

"My hotel is a half-hour drive from the stadium, and Shannon was damn near passed out by the end, anyway," I said. "And I wasn't going to do anything with her at the stadium."

"I... yeah, I definitely don't understand," Kelly said.

"I'm gonna get a little nerdy on you, babe," I answered. "I love baseball. Outside of my family -- and maybe some girl in Idaho that I couldn't pick out of a police lineup -- it's my favorite thing on the planet. There are days where I do nothing but marathon baseball all day, either playing it or watching it live or on TV. I'm in four fantasy baseball leagues. I can tell you every World Series champion since the event started in 1903. I watch highlights of every game, every night, not just the Braves. I spend more time looking at stats and analytics than most general managers."