The boys of summer will be back in full swing in a few weeks. I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait for some hot dogs, Cracker Jack, and watching men in tight pants round the bases.
Even if you don’t love baseball, Bases Loaded will hit a home run for anyone who’s ever fantasized about getting dirty in a dug-out or let a date get to second base.
There’s a reason baseball and sex just seem so right together . . . .
Here’s an excerpt from my short story “Sweet Spot” published in Bases Loaded edited by F. Leonora Solomon. Buy it HERE today.
Kissing Anderson in my living room is almost a big enough distraction to keep me from watching the game. Almost. I try to steal a peek at the screen to see who is up to bat. He stops, pushing me away. “Do you want me to leave so you can watch the game?”
“Ouch. No. I’m glad you’re here.” I can feel the blush rise up my neck as I think about how to tell him what I really want.
When Anderson rises from the couch, it hits me how disappointed I’d be if he left. I watch, hoping he isn’t gathering his things to go. He scoots the coffee table a few feet out of theway and rolls up his sleeves. When he gets on the floor facing my knees, it dawns on me this man isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be mine for a good, long time.
Motioning for the remote, Anderson clearly has a trick up his sleeve as he hits the mute button: “I didn’t have the benefit of a blind grandmother in my life.” He’s nuzzling my thighs through my spandex pants, rubbing my knees. “You’re going to have to teach me to appreciate baseball.”
He reaches up, pulling my pants down to my ankles. His eyes dare me to comply with his wishes as I lift my T-shirt over my head. Still not satisfied, he silently commands me to unclasp my bra. More? I pinch my nipples, never interrupting our gaze. Watching him work my feet out of the tangle of fabric, I know I’ve done my job.
I lightly run my fingers through Anderson’s mop of hair as he nibbles my inner thigh. My boys are up to bat and my man has his face between my legs.