Rookie of the Year Part 1
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“The Rookie” is Part One of the sexual story of my life. I am purging my
soul. Telling of my past transgressions is part of my repentance.
Forgive me father, for I have sinned.
I was physically ready for the big show when I became a teenager, but not
mentally. That took a few more years after puberty. Call me a late
bloomer. The life of a baseball rookie is practice, practice, practice.
Me too. My girlfriends and I didn’t play paper dolls, we played make
believe sex. Do you have any idea what slumber parties are really all
about?
Her name was Melissa and she became my best friend from fifth grade until
she moved away when we both were sweet sixteen. We made it through
Brownies, Girl Scouts and our first periods together. We had our fingers
in each other’s tight little pussy from the day our boobies began to bud.
In junior high Melissa went from being called “the stick” to being revered
as “the rack attack.” And I measured each inch of her incredibly rapid
progress with my mouth.
In our school a sort of black market in sex toys developed. Very expensive
but well worth the investment. Melissa and I shared a Loving Touch
Vibrator that measured eight inches long and had a nice big head. But
despite having the proper equipment, our favorite activity remained licking
each other right on the hot spot. There is much to be said about being
able to feel and taste your best pal cum. The only experience we were
really not able to simulate real well was sucking cock. But we watched
plenty of blow jobs on the internet, took notes and described to each other
exactly what we would do when the opportunity arose for the first time.
I cried for weeks when Melissa moved away. Things got worse. All my
girlfriends had done the deed except for me. I felt like a leper. But I
didn’t lie about it. What’s the point? I mean, you can tell can’t you?
So I’m like an old maid, eighteen years old, and the most I ever gave a guy
was a little tit. Well, under extreme pressure, I did give several guys a
hand job. There is only so much being drooled upon one can stand. A
little jerking motion kept them off my ass at least for a little while. I
don’t know why they liked me doing it for them better than them doing it for
themselves. Never in my car again though. Stains everywhere. I think
guys should wear a condom even when they are getting jerked off.
Josh showed up at school the day after Christmas vacation in my senior year
of high school. A transfer student. His mother had died several years
before and his father worked for a major oil company and got sent to the Mid
East. So Josh came to live with his grandparents in my home town.
Naturally the only seat in homeroom is right behind me at the end of the
second row. Josh totally ignored me. Well, I was no fashion plate and
wore baggy jeans, a flannel shirt and braided hair most of the time. No
make up. After school I went to the beauty shop to get a new do and the
next day I wore the tightest jeans I owned. You know, the kind that takes
fifteen minutes of wiggling and pulling to get into. I wore my favorite
red sweater with no bra. When I looked at Josh the tips of my nipples got
so erect I thought they just might pop through the material. He still
ignored me.
The rumors flew that Josh was some sort of incredible baseball player. He
looked like an athlete to me and guess what indoor contact sport I had in
mind. Ten minutes after he made his appearance in home room, I had gotten
up from my seat and told the doctor.
Which I did. I went to see my older sister, at the time an intern at a
local hospital. She had told me a hundred times to come and see her when I
thought I was ready. You know, birth control pills.
Weeks passed. I made “goo goo” eyes at Josh and he looked right past me.
Well, he seemed to ignore all the other girls as well. I began to wonder
if he could be gay. Then came Valentine’s Day and I was in love. But
nobody knew it, especially not the focus of my romantic attention and the
proximate cause of my wet panties
Lass class before lunch was calculus. Class ended, I’m eating lunch in the
cafeteria and I couldn’t find my calculus notebook. I went back to the
classroom and opened the door. Much to my surprise there is Josh. They
didn’t hear me. He and Mrs. Henry, the
thirty-something divorced teacher of calculus and certain other subjects
that are difficult to swallow.
Talk about getting a heart on for Valentine’s Day. Mrs. Henry was sucking
Josh’s cock. It was huge! She could only get about half of it in her
mouth. I watched, I couldn’t help it. They didn’t notice me. To make a
long story short, he came all over her face and she looked like a ghost.
Turning my way to reach a box of tissues on her desk, she saw me and
shrieked. I turned like five shades of red. Josh stared me right in the
eye and winked. I started stammering and then just grabbed my notebook and
ran out. I never said a word about the incident to anyone. I swear!
Another week passed and Josh kept right on ignoring me. But then one
fateful morning in homeroom, he started playing with my hair. Nobody
noticed. He gently massaged my neck and shoulders with one hand. Chills
ran up and down my spine. My lips quivered and that isn’t all that began
to pulsate. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t do anything. I just
pretended nothing was happening. So then we moved on to classes and I got
a couple of hours to cool off.
I didn’t see Josh again until lunch. He brown bagged it. Stupid me, I
asked, “So what are you eating today?” You know, making conversation.
Josh looked at me with those big brown bedroom eyes and said, “You, I hope.”
I fainted. I frigging fainted right there in the middle of the cafeteria.
When I finally woke up in the nurse’s office thanks to smelling salts, I
sought out Josh. I informed him he could have me for breakfast, lunch,
dinner and snacks in between. Hey, it took guts to say that but why beat
around the bush? I also told him my first time was not going to be in the
backseat of a car. So we plotted our first evening (and morning) together.
I know this sex stuff is supposed to be spontaneous but the hell with
that. Josh basically did what he wanted but I had doting parents to
contend with. My sister the doctor figured out how to shake me loose. I
guess she felt filling up my tank might negate some of my neuroses. I
mean, I suffered from high anxiety over being a virgin.
My sister got us a room at a motel twenty-five miles away. Josh picked me
up about
1:00 P.M. that fateful Saturday afternoon in a 1965 Ford Mustang
convertible. Dark green, black top and a stick shift. Convertibles turn
me on, among other things. His grandfather restored classic cars and had a
barn full that could just make you wet your panties. Anyway, we arrived at
the inn of double happiness and all we had to do was open the door because
my sister already gave me the key. Awesome Jacuzzi!
Right away I started to get cold feet. I knew I was going to do the deed
this day but not just yet. We had plans to go to my cousin’s wedding
reception about 6:00 P.M. I asked Josh if we could go for a ride and get
some food and a six-pack. My sister had given me her I.D. and we could
always pass for twins anyway.
Quite the beautiful day for late February, sunny and about sixty degrees.
The top comes down. No, not mine. That would come later. We just
cruised around and passed a recreation area with basketball courts. I had
noticed a basketball in the back seat. I suggested we stop and play.
I knew Josh had heard I could play. Pictures of me and last year’s team
hung all over the school. I didn’t play my senior year. We had won the
state championship the previous year, most of my teammates had graduated and
the coach left for another job. I didn’t feel like starting all over and
decided to concentrate on better preparing myself for college. I could
have cared less about a basketball scholarship because I had my own money,
thanks to my late very wealthy grandfather who adored me.
We got on the court and began to shoot around. Then I said to Josh, “Let’s
play one on one.” No guy in my school could beat me.
Josh responded, “Okay, what do you want to play for?”
I had gotten pretty cocky right about then, so I said, “If I win, you teach
me how to drive that Mustang stick. If you win, I’ll give you a blow job.”
He flung the ball at me and told me to take it out first.
Fifteen minutes later he is winning 16 to 4 and he mostly let me have my two
hoops. Meanwhile these two really tall guys started shooting at the other
end, and mouthing off about Josh’s competition--me. He got pissed and
challenged them, you know, us versus them. Josh drilled three from more
than twenty-five feet and when they double-teamed him he fed me two for
lay-ups. Then he told me to throw one up close to the rim and he crammed
it. These two dudes, who meanwhile had zero points, got humble real quick
and asked him if he played in the NBA or something. And Josh was supposed
to be a baseball player. Oh my. Anyway, so we all said that’s enough and
parted friendly.
We went to leave and Josh told me to get behind the wheel and he gave me a
couple quick start and stop lessons. I got the hang of it real fast. We
got back to the room and were so sweaty we decided to get in the Jacuzzi.
I had already seen some of him, due to the private calculus lesson, so he
wasn’t shy about taking his clothes off. Yeow! He looked even better and
bigger with nothing on. I made him cover his eyes when I took my clothes
off. I think he peeked though because he commented, after I was submerged
but for my head, about my exquisite breasts.
And then he kissed me. Actually, he first moved close and put his arm
around me and nibbled my ear. Then my neck. He kissed me so sweetly.
And then he grabbed me by the back of my wet stringy hair and kissed me
hard. I was engulfed by this face and tongue and lips and I loved it. I
knew I was acting a little limp but I couldn’t hardly help it. I felt like
screaming, “Would you please fuck me, would you please just fuck me and end
my misery?” And my virginity. Talk about a cross to bear.
Josh’s hands started to move downward. I rose up out of the water to my
navel. He licked the water from my breasts, going around and around my
nipples with his tongue, and gently rubbing the tips with his fingers. I
shivered convulsively despite the very warm water. Steamy in fact.
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We kept winning all through May, and were in first place on the first of June. We had just arrived in Seattle at the beginning of a nine-games-in-ten-days, three-cities road trip. The Orioles had won four in a row at home before heading west. All three clubs we'd meet on this run -- Seattle, Oakland and the Angels of Lost Anaheim (or whatever the hell they were calling themselves this year) -- were tough. All three clubs were over .500 for the year and ready to make a try at bringing us...
I saw Maria at Camden Yards one afternoon when I was leaving the workout room. "Who are you working for this week?" I asked. "Ticket sales," Maria said. "--not your most exciting division, but, hey, I'm helping to pay your fat salary!" "If everybody's salary was as low as mine," I told her, "you wouldn't have to sell nearly as many tickets." "Yeah, I don't know how you manage to get by," she said, smiling. Maria was a baseball brat. She knew what the minimum salary for...
The picnic was scheduled for a weeknight, because the team always had a game to play on weekend nights. As usual, the event was well-attended. Paul Warren had worried, in the first year or two after establishing this little tradition, that players would somehow feel compelled to show up. He always made it as clear as he possibly could to everyone that they could come, or not, as they chose. Somewhat to his surprise, year after year, virtually everyone he invited showed up. At least, everyone...
We wrapped up the home stand, still winning, and were on the road again by late Thursday. I hadn't seen Maria since picnic night, three days earlier. That had been deliberate on my part. If you don't know what to do with a girl, the best thing to do with her is nothing. We had the White Sox, then the Twins, and then Detroit before we would be back in Baltimore for a lengthy series of games at home before the All-Star break. I hadn't gotten the call to pitch in several days, but it didn't...
The hallway on Marie's floor was free of traffic when I furtively used the key she'd provided to open her door and steal inside. The room was completely dark. "Maria?" Oh, Jesus! What if this was some kind of elaborate prank? I imagined the lights suddenly coming on and finding myself in a room with Paul Warren and Arlie Stone. Or maybe with Maria and three of her college chums. But the lights didn't come on. Maybe she'd fallen asleep. Then I heard her disembodied voice from some...
Maria had agreed that we wouldn't see one another again until the team got back to Baltimore several days later. But that wasn't going to keep her from calling me on the telephone. Sunday night, when we had just arrived in Minneapolis, I got a call in the hotel room from, according to the desk clerk, "Charlize Jones." It was Maria. "Charlize Jones?" I asked. "Half Charlize Theron, half Catherine Zeta Jones," Maria explained. "How many women do you know named "Charlize?" I...
It was after three in the morning when I finally unlocked the door to my ratty little apartment and stepped inside. I was weary from the long road trip, that night's long night game, the long flight back to Baltimore, and the long commute into town from the airport. I considered just dropping off to sleep in the guest bedroom and not waking Maria until morning. Or maybe she had never actually made it over. Maybe my bed was just waiting for the Lone Ranger, as usual. But, no. The kitchen...
We had the Oakland A's in town for the opening of our home stand that night, and Shiggie Nomura, our ace lefty starter, held them hitless for six full innings. But in the seventh, Shiggie suddenly lost it and damned if the A's didn't hit him up for back-to-back homers! The bases were empty for both of them, so we were still up 3-2, but there was nobody out, and Paul called the bullpen and got Gene Holtz and me both up-and-throwing real quick. Shiggie walked the next two hitters, one of...
We were doing very well indeed -- both on the field and off, as August wore on. We'd come back from the brief New York and Boston road trip 4-2, and after sweeping Toronto three games at home we were gone again -- this time to Kansas City and St. Louis. We were completing the season series with the Royals, and we had to make up two rained-out interleague games with the Cardinals -- postponements from much earlier in the season. The only available makeup date had been that Thursday in late...
I got a very late call that night from Maria. She kept crying and apologizing for getting me into this mess, and I kept reassuring her that it takes two to make a mess this big, and that I was the one who was older and ought to have had more sense. Maria stoutly denied that anything we had done was wrong, or that anything we had done suggested that we didn't have good sense. "Did Paul say anything to you?" I asked. "He said he was very disappointed in me," she said. That brought on...
Finally Paul found his voice. "You two -- want to get married?" "Yes!" Maria said. "Yes, sir," I said. "But -- you're just a..." "No, Daddy, I'm not just a kid!" Maria responded vehemently. In November of this year, less than two months from now, I will be twenty years old!" "I think that's wonderful!" Orlie said. "Do you have a ring?" "I was waiting to see if I left here alive, first," I said, "before getting one." "What about school?" Paul said. "I'll...
Boston had recaptured third place in our Division during August, with the hapless Devil Rays fading down the stretch, but the Sox were only a pale memory of what they'd been, a few years back when they'd won it all. Like the Yankees, the Red Sox management had learned, expensively, that money wasn't everything, and that it took more than an open wallet to keep a club winning. God knows the wealthy clubs had a huge advantage. But — happily for the health of the game, competitiveness...
You've gotta be good to get into the playoffs, but being lucky helps, too. We had handled the Twins with uncharacteristic ease, and we felt good about it, because they were a tough, tenacious bunch. But even tougher for us, season-long, had been the Oakland A's. Oakland had to face the White Sox in their first-round playoff series, and the Oriole players paid attention, because we had scuffled against Oakland every time we'd faced them, over the past two seasons. Most of the time,...
Our final game in St. Louis could be our final game of the season and the Series, if we lost it. Paul Warren usually wasn't much for speech-making, and we didn't really expect him hold forth before Game Six at any great length. But he called for our attention in the clubhouse before the game and outlined the situation. Not that the situation needed much outlining. Win, or go away. That was about it, and we all knew it. "These guys are good!" Paul began, borrowing, probably...