Softball

Softball
Puffery@prodigy.com

Hangovers are suppose to be gone by noon but it was nearing 
dinnertime and the insidious throbbing persisted.  That made the four 
hour drive ahead seem more than a bit daunting.  As I gassed up, it 
also contextualized my auxiliary purchases.  It made the Excedrin a 
necessity, the Budweiser twelve pack contrarily demented, and the 
condoms - well somewhere between precautionary and delusional.  After 
all, I was simply devoting the remainder of the weekend to coaching a 
teenage softball team.

Maybe I'd better back up for a minute and explain.  For the past four 
seasons I'd been an assistant coach for my kid sister's softball team.
  Our dad had been a very active guy coaching both my baseball team 
and Lisa's softball team from the first year we were eligible to play.
  My sophomore year he recruited me to help him with a select team he 
was building.  The idea was to get together a group of girls capable 
of playing immediately at the regional - and maybe eventually even at 
the national - level.  The sixth graders that he collected were a 
pretty solid troop.  

That season we did well around the KC metro but took our licks in the 
regional tournaments.  Our best performance was a fourth place finish 
in a sixteen team field up at St. Joe's.  We did beat two teams there 
though that had whipped our asses at earlier tournaments so as the 
season ended there was some pretty good evidence of progress.  I was 
having a lot of fun and admittedly, while these girls were pretty 
young, it wasn't so bad having them look up to me.  Even Lisa - my 
own sister - wasn't bad about following my instructions.

That fall Dad got heavy into the recruiting business.  He'd spend a 
lot of nights on the phones talking to parents of prospective players 
about why they should consider playing for us that next season.  The 
currency of exchange was free transportation, unlimited batting cage 
usage, and sometimes even picking up the tab for expensive individual 
coaching for a pitcher.  The good news was five new hot players; the 
bad news telling five from last year that they'd been dropped.  Lisa 
was afraid that her own dad might dump her but that would never 
happen.

The next season we got off to a great start.  We'd picked up this 
pitcher, Carly, who'd been the star of Lisa's soccer team and who 
steamed it in from forty two feet at pushing fifty miles per hour.  I 
never took any swings against her contending that it would be 
embarrassing.  We all knew who it was who would likely be embarrassed.
  Dad, who'd been to the 'bigs' for a cup of coffee a couple of times,
 had a better eye than I did and occasionally would take a few cuts.  
That's how we first noticed the problem.  In April he'd get the bat 
around and often spray the ball around the infield; by July he wasn't 
getting the bat off his shoulders.  And then at the Little Rock 
Invitational in August he stumbled and simply couldn't get back up.  
He spent the night at the emergency room.        

The brain tumor diagnosis was swift and the disease even swifter.  By 
Christmas he was bedridden and he died on Easter Sunday - ironically, 
no tragically - the weekend of sign ups for the '85 season.  With dad 
not recruiting that year, we had several key defections.  Dad's 
crosstown mortal enemy picked up both our all league catcher and our 
first string third baseman.  We managed to hold on to Carly and the 
other two prior year newcomers and Carly helped us recruit a couple 
of her former teammates.  They weren't straight up replacements for 
our losses but they would certainly help and Kara grew to be a 
mainstay a first.

Carly's dad had come with the package the year before as the lead 
assistant coach and he graciously accepted my dad's offer of taking 
over the team.  Kara's mom came along the same way that next year.  
Tom wasn't a coach of the same caliber as dad but he was very willing.
  He definitely would need a lot of help and so when he asked that I 
stay on, I did so - and I did so with incredibly mixed emotions.  
Continuing to coach would certainly honor dad's memory but it also 
perpetuated the horrible rawness of our loss.  At various times both 
Lisa and I spoke of quitting but we knew that was the last thing we 
could ever do.

That season was my senior year.  We played well and even won an eight 
team event over at Quincy but we didn't have quite the spark of the 
previous season.  Lisa really came on though and did make all 
conference along with of course Carly.  As long as Carly was pitching 
we were always in the game.  She was now clocked sometimes over sixty.
  The final game of the season was a double elimination event in St. 
Louis.  We went out after four games - two Carly wins - and two staff 
losses.  There were many tears, more hugs, and endless promises about 
next year.  How much I'd be missed the next year as I left for 
college was mentioned by many and left me feeling well validated.

Okay so that's some background.  It's now five thirty on a sticky 
early June afternoon.  Over the past twenty four hours I had stuck my 
last two finals and would complete my freshman year with a 3.5+ GPA, 
had consumed the lion's share of a case of Budweiser, and had gotten 
laid.  And roughly in that order of importance.  You can see why my 
day was just starting at this late hour.    

Missy was not at all happy about my leaving.  We'd been dating since 
our Junior year at Blue Springs in KC and she fully expected me to 
drive her home tomorrow.  When I told her that I was driving up to 
Kirksville to help coach Lisa's team, she was miffed and when I 
didn't invite her along, it moved more toward pissed.  I told her 
that I'd be back on Monday and she could ride back from Columbia with 
me then.  She just kind of glared and mumbled something about calling 
her folks or - in not too veiled threat - her next door neighbor 
Jimmy. 

As I hit the highway I kind of wondered if she'd still be there on 
Monday.  Somehow, I was obviously hoping not.  As much as I really 
liked Missy, something was missing.  She was my first real girl 
friend and really the only girl I'd ever had real sex with - you know 
what I mean, what we'd call Clintonian sex today.  It just didn't 
seem as exciting as it once did.  I kept trying to think about Missy 
but my mind just wouldn't cooperate.  Now - and even in bed last 
night - where my mind kept going wasn't to Missy at all but rather 
back to the ballpark and out to the mound.  And there there was some 
excitement.  Missy was just too damned nice; Carly, a world of some 
mystery - and given her age - one hell of a lot of potential danger. 


All day long that excitement had been a pleasant mental diversion.  
On one hand, Missy expected me to stay and court her while, on the 
other, I'd promised Lisa that I'd be in Kirksville for the first 
pitch at 6PM.  Since I'd vacillated all day long now, neither would 
be totally satisfied.  Within the past hour it was Lisa that won out -
 well at least ostensibly it was Lisa -  or so I said to Missy.  And 
now I was destined for perhaps a 9PM arrival.

Let me describe Carly.  Facially alluring with nontraditional beauty -
 but eyes and a smile that telegraphed a kind of cockiness.  And 
feeding that cocksure attitude was a body that stops men of any age 
dead in their tracks.  Fifteen year olds aren't often 38D's - she was 
at thirteen.  From the first practice she showed up at two years 
earlier she was clearly something special.  Fully developed breasts 
and a nicely turned ass.  Outfitted for softball but designed for a 
bikini.  A woman playing on a girl's team.      

Now speeding along I70 at well over 70, a couple of flashbacks from 
this past spring break occupied my thoughts.  I'd gone home that 
second week of April to help mom out a little.  I'd only had three 
days off since I was already on the Missou varsity myself.  
Coincidentally it had also been the first week of spring training for 
the softball team.  Carly's dad had had an aggressive off-season and 
had added some new talent to the team.  Lisa was again concerned for 
playing status but I knew she'd produce and indeed she did.  

I showed up on Tuesday afternoon and was virtually mobbed by the team.
  It felt great to be back and be appreciated.  I welcomed a number 
of hugs and most notably Carly's which rightly or wrongly I perceived 
as longer and more friendly than the others.  We ended the afternoon 
with an intramural game and I took up my old haunt as third base 
coach.  Carly was the batter leading off the second inning and she 
really uncorked a shot to left center which surprisingly got cut off 
before reaching the fence.  It was a solid double but she came 
barreling into third - face first - just ahead of the tag.  Getting 
up, she uttered a barely audible but distinct "Fuck".

Confused and more than a little shocked, I approached closer and said 
"What's that all about.  You had a great hit" to which she retorted 
"Ya, but if I'd rounded third on my feet you would have patted my 
butt."  The wink accompanying was neither jesting nor innocent and my 
sudden redness matched her apparent sincerity.  I was momentarily 
speechless and of course looking for the right words which never seem 
to be there at the right moment.  Lisa fortunately singled her in on 
the next pitch and I was temporality out of my agony.   

A couple of minutes later their side was retired and they took the 
field.  As I had long been wont to do, I occupied myself during the 
exchange by checking out the stands.  Many of the mothers and more 
than a few of the sisters were smokers and that made for quality 
scenery as far as I was concerned.  I certainly admitted it to no one 
but for as long as I could remember that was a turn on for me.  
Attractive smoking helped make a woman even more attractive to me.  
And Carly's mom just happened to be one of my favorite practitioners. 
 

I could not have been less prepared however for the treat I was about 
to receive.  As I turned toward the stands to watch Carly's mom work 
a little magic with her Camel Light 100, not only did I catch one of 
her perfect exhales, I noticed Carly slipping into the stands beside 
her.  Only slightly surreptitiously and with obviously practiced care,
 she removed the cigarette from between her mother's nonresistant 
fingers.  Flicking off the ask rather routinely, she took one hard 
drag and then, looking my way, an opened mouth second without benefit 
of an exhaled.  

Fantasizing the smoke warmly filling and caressing the insides of 
those remarkable tits, I stared dumbfounded awaiting its inevitable 
release.  Returning the cigarette between the fingers that had not 
stirred, she moved gracefully back toward the playing field.  Now 
exhaling generously in my general direction, she was keenly aware 
that my attention was profound and undivided.  I think she winked 
again but couldn't be sure as I turned away to hide my deeply 
disturbed jeans.

She struck out the blue side in her usual fashion and the whites were 
almost immediately back in the dugout.  I watched now totally 
captivated to see if she'd return to the stands but noted in quiet 
dismay that her mom was crushing out her cigarette as Carly 
approached.  My disappointment however transformed to total 
exhilaration as I saw Carly reach into her own backpack and produce 
an identical pack of Camel Light 100's.  Swiftly she also produced a 
lighter and pulled hard against the vulnerable flame.  After three or 
four quick puffs - with seemingly everyone else there but me 
oblivious - she handed the cigarette to her mother and returned to 
the on-deck circle.

I was feeling a kind of excitement that I really couldn't remember 
ever having felt before.  Sex with Missy couldn't compete with simply 
watching Carly.  It seemed like an interminable amount of time before 
the batter finally took a third strike.  Carly was now up - as was I -
 and there was no other human being on the field.  I watched her take 
first a ball and then a strike and then work the count to two and two.
  As the pitcher went into her wind-up suddenly I heard myself 
yelling.  "Roundtripper Carly" I screamed.  "Knock it out of here."  
She didn't, but on the other hand the incongruent smile that 
accompanied her third strike signified that the message had been 
clearly received.  And I was still rewarded as she returned to the 
stands to reclaim and share the cigarette she'd earlier begun.  This 
mother-daughter ritual which so aroused me was very clearly old hat 
to them.

After the game I wished the entire team the best for the season and 
expressed my regrets - and they were growing by the minute - that I 
wouldn't be there for the season.  Carly piped up and said "Well, you 
can certainly join us and help out at some of the tournaments can't 
you ?  You still care enough about us to do that, don't you?"  I was 
quick to say that that sounded like an excellent idea and I would 
certainly try.  "Do" she reiterated.

In May they played a double header in Jeff City but I'd had an 
earlier game in Columbia.  I got up there just in time to see the 
last three innings of the second game.  With Carly pitching we'd shut 
them out in the opener; by the time I got there we were down by seven 
runs in the fourth inning.  By necessity I spent most of my time 
chatting with the coaches while I was there but the girls almost all 
said hi.  I kept hoping that I'd catch Carly in the stands but then 
sadly realized that smoking in uniform could get her ejected.  Oh 
well.  Carly didn't actually say a single word to me but again she 
gave me this incredulous look and lengthy wink.  Just looking at her 
took my breath away.  As if she didn't know.

About a week later I received a birthday card.  What was strange was 
not only was it not my birthday, the card wasn't for me.  It read 
"Happy 16th to you Carly" and included the remainder of the summer's 
playing calendar.  The first weekend of June was circled and it 
showed a three day 'softball festival' at Kirksville.  Inscribed 
below were the words "Everyone who shows up is an automatic winner."  
I called up Lisa within the hour and asked her to book me a room for 
two nights at the Days Inn they'd be staying at.  While seemingly 
less than surprised by my request, she expressed genuine excitement 
at the prospect of my presence and the date was solidified.           


It's now a little after seven and in another hour and half I'll be 
there.  The thoughts running through my mind are, to say the least, 
stimulating but also more than a little confusing.  I'm completely 
mesmerized by a sixteen year old who I really don't know.  A few 
winks, a couple of innuendo, a little sensuous smoking perhaps for my 
benefit, a solicitous note that presumably she wrote and here I am.  
A cold Bud is definitely in order - thrust deeply between my active 
loins.

I tool off the freeway and cruise the main street.  Finding the motel 
should not be taxing.  Not in a town of seven thousand.  In less than 
five minutes I'm in the parking lot and five minutes later in my room.
  Walking down the hall I hear a lot of noise which is presumably our 
team or maybe one of our competitors.  The light is flashing as I 
walk in and I have a message from Lisa.  "Would I call as soon as I 
get in and how come I missed the early game?"  No one answers and so 
I leave a message.  "Got delayed.  Room 232.  Very tire.  Going to 
bed."

More than tired however, I'm famished.  The hangover has now finally 
dissipated and in its wake I'm achingly hungry.  The motel doesn't 
have food service so it's obviously got to be a pizza solution.  I 
call Pizza Hut and get a thirty minute guarantee.  That's better than 
pulling myself together and going out again, so I go for it.  
Settling down to wait, I scan for ESPN.  It's a little early for 
SportsCenter but the Cubs and the Cardinals are playing.  I'll have 
to watch the screen for the Royal's score.   

Half watching and still half fantasizing, the phone rings.  It's Lisa 
and she's on her way up.  Of course I'm happy to hear Lisa's voice 
but it didn't fit the pictures currently tormenting me.  We greet at 
the door and do a brother-sister huggy thing - in other words kind of 
a bump.  Lisa is usually on the serious side - even before dad died 
and really so since.  That's not who she is tonight.  As we hugged I 
think that  I catch a little whiff of tobacco and her first couple of 
sentences are a touch less articulate than I expect from my straight 
A's kid sister.

"I just ordered a pizza" I say.  "Want me to call back and order an 
extra?"

"Nah" she replies.  "I'm not the least bit hungry.  We already had 
pizza anyhow."    

"And maybe a beer or two as well?" I continue, noticing that she's 
looked over at my damaged twelve pack a couple of times.  

"Um, is it that obvious?" she responds.  "Could you smell it on my 
breath or do I sound a little tipsy?"

"A little of each" I confided.  "If I didn't know better, I'd even 
say that maybe you'd been smoking too.  Certainly has that smell I 
remember from the days when mom smoked."  

"Look Joey, you've got to promise not to tell, okay?  A bunch of the 
girls on the team do smoke.  Some like Carly even with their parents 
permission.  Stephanie's brother bought us a case of beer and after 
we'd had one, some of us who don't smoke got up the nerve to try.  
Carly offered to teach us how to inhale.  Honest-to-God, it's the 
first cigarette I've ever had and I'm not anxious for another.  It 
made me kind of sick."

Now I was really getting uncomfortable.  This coming-of-age orgy was 
turning me on and anything involving my sister that was the least bit 
arousing was just plain too weird.  I didn't cut off her story 
altogether however being genuinely interested in the behavior of 
those unrelated.  "So what are they all up to now?" I inquired 
feigning as much innocence as possible as to whom 'they' meant.  

Lisa smiled back coyly hearing both what I said and what I didn't.  
"And who would the 'they' be that you're referring to?  The group 
that is smoking and drinking or the goody two shoes?  The goody two 
shoes are probably sitting around talking about the rest of us in 
Kara's room.  The others are all in Carly's room.  Her folks know 
that we're smoking and don't seem to care.  It's no big deal in their 
family.  Can you believe it, even her eleven year old sister can 
smoke if she wants to?  The beer however we have hidden.  They may 
suspect but as long as we're careful I don't think they'll drill us." 
 And then after a short pause and a noticeable grin she continued, 
"Or would it be someone in particular that you're asking about?  
Maybe the pitcher who threw a one hit shutout tonight?"   

"Did she?" I blurted out with mouth now leading brain three to zip.  
No poker player I, I'm now sure that my hue is more heart than spade. 
 Suspecting that she was better informed than I would want her to be, 
I stumbled out a few marginally coherent words.  "Well, kind of."  
Taking another breath I continued "Now it's your turn for complete 
secrecy Lisa.  One word and you're toast.  From practically the first 
day Carly joined the team, I've been fascinated by her.  Since she's 
four years younger though I've just kept my distance but when I was 
home over spring break she definitely was flirting with me and then a 
couple of weeks ago I got a very specific invitation to be here this 
weekend.  If it wasn't from her then someone's doing a great job 
playing me for a fool."

With again that same cool coyness that made me suddenly realize that 
my kid sister wasn't quite so much of a kid anymore, she responded 
"And how exactly do you suppose that Carly got your campus address, 
oh clueless brother of mine?"  Bemused by my shock and apparent 
naiveté, she throws me yet another curve.  "You know what I just said 
about it being my first cigarette, I was like just testing out a 
story for mom.  That was pure bullshit.  It was like more true for 
Crystal and Sarah.  I've been smoking all year" and with that she 
pulls a pack of Marlboro Light 100's out of her team windbreaker and 
reaches for the already spotted yellow "Days Inn" crested ashtray.

With me surely now looking baffled head to toe, "Don't worry" she 
continues.  "Mom knows - well sort of.  She's said stuff like 'my but 
your clothes smell smoky lately' and I've just smiled.  I've resolved 
to come clean on Monday.  I watch her tap a cigarette out of the soft 
pack nonchalantly, capture it between her lightly glossed lips, and 
greet it with a quickly flicked lighter.  She takes two or three 
pretty respectable puffs before continuing.  Smoke evacuating as she 
now finishes, "I think it's about time."

More than a little amazed, I responded in kind.  "It doesn't look to 
me like mom's going to have much choice.  You already look like a 
smoker to me.  How did that happen so fast?" I inquire then realize 
that two questions lay open on the table.  The how's and why's of 
Lisa starting to smoke were probably interesting but not imminent.  
Carly was far more so.  So interrupting myself I said "No, save the 
story for some other time.  What's the deal with the note from Carly?
"

Completing a pretty impressive two breath exhale, the little grin 
reappeared.  "She's got the bigtime hots for you big brother.  I 
think she's had them for you since that first season too.  With that 
body of hers she can get just about anybody's attention that she 
wants but instead she's pretty reserve.  She knows that guys are 
constantly on the make and you were just different.  You've never 
come on to her but she kind of figured by the way that you looked at 
her that you might be interested."  And then in afterthought mode "Oh 
I was really rude, I didn't even ask you if I could smoke here" she 
offered stubbing out what little remained amid a long and relaxed 
final exhale.

"Don't worry.  Doesn't bother me" I assured her - which of course was 
a humungous lie.  I just wasn't about to explain to my sister exactly 
how bothering smoking really was for me and as for watching my own 
sister smoke, no way was I going there.  "Okay, sis, so here I am and 
of course I'd like to see Carly.  On the other hand I don't want to 
get either one of us killed.  What should I do next?"  

"Wait" she responded.  "Just wait.  Curfew is at eleven so it won't 
be until after that."  She gave me a totally uncharacteristic little 
peck on the cheek and headed for the door.  Closing it behind her she 
poked her head back in and said in parting "Joey, I love you.  With 
dad gone, I love you even more."  

SportsCenter is on at ten in the Midwest and it was well under way 
when I turned the set back on.  Lisa's words had moved me but 
admittedly thoughts of Carly were addressing me in a more persuasive 
manner.  The Royal's score must have crossed the screen five times 
before I even took note.  Somewhere along the way the pizza arrived 
and I think I had a beer with it.  Call it all a blur.  At eleven 
Carson came on and I tried to get into the monologue but somehow 
didn't.  I guess I would have had to listen.

I know you guys understand my problem.  I'd had a hard on for most of 
the drive up and it hadn't let up since I'd come to the room.  
Watching my sister smoke a cigarette competently - bordering upon 
provocatively - didn't help.   I told myself that my reaction was 
about projecting Carly into the scenario.  I really think that is 
true.  I've never had any incestuous feelings before.  Nevertheless 
it was a little disconcerting staring at the lightly lipstick stained 
butt my not unattractive sister had deposited in the ashtray.

Johnny was back from commercial break and his first guest was coming 
out.  Tony Randall bores me so I go channel surfing.  MTV looks like 
a winner.  Maybe the music will calm me a little.  It's now a couple 
of minutes past eleven thirty and I need another beer.  The ice in 
the ice bucket has already melted so I head down the hall for a 
refill.  I've got several more brews to keep cool - just in case the 
evening stretches on.  

Walking back I run into Tom, Carly's dad, who is thrilled to see me 
(if he only knew).  Joey, it's great to see you.  The girls seemed to 
know you were coming so I've got you penciled back in coaching third 
base tomorrow.  Any problem?  Actually there are a couple of things 
that I'd like to chat with you about.  Would you mind if I drop by 
after I do the girls' bedcheck?  I'm headed that way right now.  

"Of course" I mumble to the affirmative as if I have some choice.

Ten minutes later Mr. Alexander knocks on my door.  The black plague 
would be more welcome but he wants to discuss some potential line up 
changes.  Since I don't even know a couple of the new girls I'm not 
sure how much help I can be but I feign interest and make suggestions 
in hopes of an early climax - to this conversation I mean.  He's 
standing and ready to leave when there's a rap on the door.  I open 
it and standing there in her wrap around robe is his daughter.

Seeing us both there together, a look of utter terror grips her face 
as she yells "Oh, thank God I found you daddy.  Come quick.  Lisa 
isn't feeling well."  Single file we race back toward their room with 
Carly in the lead.  She throws open the door and before a sound can 
be uttered she announces "Lisa, you were right.  My dad was in your 
brother's room.  Is YOUR pain still as bad?"  

I'd been told many times that women had a natural affinity for acting 
but I was bowled over as my perfectly healthy sister began to 
instantly mildly moan.  "It's just cramps Carly.  I told you that you 
didn't have to go find him.  I'll be okay in just a few minutes.  I 
have one night like this almost every month.  Mr. Alexander I'm so 
sorry that we've bothered you.  I'll be all right in no time.  I just 
need to get to sleep so that I'm fresh for the 9 o'clock game."

Disaster averted.  He bought the story and I would have too in his 
shoes.  Hell, I almost bought it myself and I knew it was crap.  This 
was Academy Award quality performing on the first take.  He and I 
stepped back outside and finished our conversation on the walkway.  
Three minute later we headed off in opposite directions with a 
promise to meet for breakfast at seven.  And seven was now but seven 
hours away.  All things considered, we'd probably all had enough 
excitement for this evening.

My mind was ready to call it a day but my genitalia somehow believed 
that the night was still young.  I decided to give myself 30 minutes 
of CNN and if I had no company by that time to handle my yearnings in 
a less social but time honored manner.  It was just about a quarter 
past twelve when again there was a rapping at the door.  It sounded 
rather like the previous one - or so one could hope.  Carefully 
rearranging my underwear for more serviceable protection, I opened 
the door.

For just an instant we both looked at each other in much the way that 
you might a cheeseburger, fries, and a thick chocolate shake.  
Slightly open mouths and distinctly wet lips.  Her white robe looked 
like Christmas wrap and this time she'd exchanged her slippers for a 
pair of red pumps.  Unbelievable touch.  Within a couple of seconds 
she said "It's probably best that I not be seen vamping around your 
doorstep, don't you think?  Would you mind terribly if I come" 
pausing perceptibly "in?"  My inaudible invitation was accepted with 
the door quickly closing behind her.  

The look resumed for a brief moment and then she took one decisive 
step toward me and initiated a kiss.  Lasting several seconds it was 
both forceful and exploratory.  The aftereffect of a recent cigarette 
was evident and seductive.  I'd never actually kissed a smoker before 
and it was more erotic than even I had imagined.  It was she, not I, 
that broke it off and as she moved gently away her fingers glanced 
lightly across my pants top.  "I know that you're opposed to firearms 
so I'm pretty sure you're glad to see me." she intoned with a sly 
smile.  "That's good" she finished "because I came here to fuck you." 


Knock me over with a feather.  There was no question as to who was in 
control.  She intended to do me and I intended to let her.  Not once 
had the word "fuck" ever come out of Missy's mouth.  I can't tell you 
how much it excited me.  "Would you mind just sitting there on the 
edge of the bed? she requested to which of course I complied.  She in 
turn grabbed the one desk chair in the room and swung it around with 
the open back facing me.

A pack of Camel Light 100's emerged from her pocket and a small 
golden lighter - not the three for a dollar kind.  A quick flame 
danced freely and as they met ignited the cigarette dangling from her 
sweet red lips.  It came to rigid attention as she pulled hard on it. 
 Several seconds later it relaxed but continued to dangle as smoke 
billowed out all around it.  And clearly with no intention of 
removing it from her lips any time soon, she smoothly straddled the 
chair her robe no longer entirely covering her golden triangle.  And 
then in one sudden motion the robe dropped to the floor.  Before me 
sat Carly is nubile luminescence - said otherwise, stark-fuckin-naked.


"Okay, let's see what you've got Joey" she volunteered.  And show it 
I did.  I stood just inches in front of her.  She beamed as I slipped 
off my shirt and displayed a well earned six pack.  "I'd whistle" she 
said "if it wasn't so late."  And then I dropped my trousers.  She 
took another drag and exhaled hard upon my hard - yet barely 
contained by strained boxers.  And then I let them fall down to my 
knees and watched her stare in quiet appreciation.  "Whew" she said 
"is that all for me?  I think I'm really going to like college life." 
   

It was all I could do not to shoot all the way across the room.  One 
more little word or glance and I just knew that I was sure to come.  
And then she did that little finger crook "come hither".  As I 
approached she took a double pump on her cigarette and snuffed it out.
  As I grasped tightly the chair's arching top, without a trace of an 
exhale she thrust me between those ruby lips and began to suck amid a 
cloud of haze now streaming from her nostrils.  "I'm only good for 
another ten seconds" I groaned to which she paused and replied "I 
know.  That's not worth spreading my legs for.  But I'll give you a 
full twenty minutes to recover." 

Ten seconds was an over estimate.  Missy had attempted head a few 
times but pretty half heartedly.  Carly does nothing half heartedly.  
My orgasm was more intense than anything I'd ever experienced and I 
had to do something.  I had to scream.  I couldn't scream.  I bit her 
on the shoulder.  But she didn't flinch.  Ever so slowly she released 
me, licking and teasing as she withdrew.  When she finally played her 
tongue around my reddened tip, no trace of come was anywhere to be 
seen.  And finally complete, she turned her face to mine, smiled as 
she deeply swallowed, rolled her tongue completely around her lips, 
then thrust it hard into my waiting mouth.  The tasty confluence of 
smoke and come was erotic beyond my wildest dreams.  

Her next line wasn't original but certainly a first for me.  She lit 
a fresh cigarette and radiated that post coital satisfaction for 
which smoking is so renown.  This time she positioned herself on the 
edge of the bed and invited me to my knees.  The line of course was 
"Do you mind if I smoke while you eat?"  I believe she quickly 
discovered that I didn't.  Lovingly playing her clitoris with a 
passionately willing tongue, it took little time to bring her to 
animated climax.  Cigarette again dangling with smoke billowing all 
about, she found silence the same challenge that I had.  "Fuckin 
amazing" was all she could utter but that did it for me.

Our hormones now somewhat back in balance we actually reverted to 
conversation.  We both knew that we had a great deal of physical need 
to be attended to in the future and an outstanding capacity for 
servicing each other.  What needed to be discussed immediately was 
the best way to make that happen.  The real question was how long she 
could risk being in my room without getting caught.  We'd almost 
concluded that maybe she'd better return to her room right away and 
then return tomorrow night.  The fact however that she was stroking 
me throughout this conversation demanded an entirely different 
resolution.

I was now again rock hard and ready for action and we stretched back 
out upon the bed gently stroking each other.  The intensity was so 
much less than moments earlier yet the ecstasy maybe even greater.  
"Please climb on top" she instructed and of course I complied.  As I 
caressed those mountainous breasts that I'd so much coveted beneath 
her softball jersey, she moved me gently to and fro teasing her pussy 
with my searching tip.  And then she nursed it slowly through the 
folds and at once the walls of her vagina pressed tightly against my 
throbbing manhood.  Deeper and deeper I pushed as she thrust her hips 
up to drive me even further in.  

This coupling so equally marvelous yet so much more tender and joyful.
  We rocked together as one with endurance not available at the first 
encounter.  Her finger nails dug deeply into my shoulder blades but 
with pleasure dominating any pain.  I enveloped her entire being with 
my rhythmic drive.  And then the Lennon tune built slowly toward 
crescendo.  Come Together.  Right Now.  Over Me.  

In unison with the rap on the door.