Band Guy Ch. 02

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*

Pete was having the most marvelous dream. He was tied to a bed, helpless, naked and blindfolded, while two women used their hands and mouths and bodies to tease and torture him, bringing him to the edge of release over and over but never letting him finish. He was so hard he thought he might burst. The sensation of a tongue stroking his cock over and over, like a dog licking a bone, was so intense it was almost sensory overload.

And then he realized that he wasn't exactly dreaming. He was spread-eagle on his bed, his hands and ankles bound, and he couldn't see a damn thing. "What the fuck was going on," he thought, and then he remembered. He had brought Catherine home last night. Catherine, the little minx who had put on quite a show for him on the stairs after giving him head in the car on the drive here. "It must be Catherine," he thought, pondering the slippery rough-smooth feel of mouth on cock first thing in the morning.

When she realized he was awake, she kissed her way up his body and gave him a pre-cum flavored kiss. "Good morning, pet. I trust you slept well?" She slid his blindfold up so he could see her.

He nodded. "Like a baby, but I'm a little curious as to why you have me tied up. I can't exactly enjoy your body like this."

She grinned. "Nope. You sure can't. But I can certainly enjoy yours!"

He glanced at the clock by the bed and blanched. "Um, Catherine, do you realize it's already 11 a.m.?"

She just looked at him.

"I have tickets to the ballgame today, and it's a 1:15 start."

Still no response from her, just those wide eyes with a hint of mystery staring back at him.

"Which means I have to leave in an hour," he explained.

"Then I guess you'd better hurry," she replied with a smile. Finally, he thought, a response!

In one swift motion, she sat on his face, her cunt spread wide and dripping. "Eat me."

Whoa! This was certainly unexpected!

"I won't tell you again, Pete. I need to cum, and if you expect to make it to the game on time, you'd better be quick about it. But I won't tolerate a crappy performance. Do it well, because we'll be here until I'm satisfied."

Pete got to work.

He lapped at her juicy slit, spreading her moisture around and getting the lay of the land in the process. She twitched when his tongue brushed her clit, so he decided to save that part for later, get her worked up a little more before honing in on her little button. Stiffening his tongue, he plunged it inside her, pushing it against her G-spot and flicking it a little. He was rewarded with a guttural moan from above.

Pete pulled his tongue back out of her and began to work her over like an ice cream cone. Flattening his tongue, he used long strokes to explore her labia. It didn't take long before she was just streaming with juice, pushing herself into his tongue. Was she ready? Pete flicked her clit experimentally, and she cried out. Oh yes, she was ready, a juicy ripe peach, her nectar running down his cheeks. He plunged his tongue inside her hole again, fucking it like he wanted to do with his cock, teasing her just a little more. Without any warning, he sucked her now-huge clit between his lips, trapping it and holding it firmly while he used his tongue to flick it back and forth. She cried out again, and her thighs stiffened. She was so close, and he wanted to push her over the edge, but he wanted her orgasm to blow her mind. He let go of her clit and went back to ice-cream cone licks, from asshole to clit, knowing that the change of pace would delay her climax for just a little longer. It was so fun to tease, and the reward would be an orgasm of seismic proportions.

She started up with a string of dirty talk that almost made him blush, calling him her little fuck toy and telling him to suck her dirty little cunt like the bad boy he was. His cock was aching, but she hadn't so much as touched it. He was reasonably certain that if she did, he would explode on contact. His pre-cum was dripping onto his belly and his balls were swollen with seed. If she didn't hurry, he might just blow his load anyway.

Pete latched on to her clit and sucked hard, like a baby trying to get the last drops out of a bottle. Catherine bucked at the intense sensations he was causing as he renewed his assault on her love button, but he didn't let go. Finally, as his teeth grazed the head of her clit, she exploded, her thighs tightening around his head as she pushed her sloppy cunt onto his face, trying to maximize the pleasure he was giving.

When her orgasm subsided, Catherine slid off Pete's face and collapsed next to him, her body slick with sweat. His face was coated in her cum, giving him the appearance of a kid who has thoroughly enjoyed a fresh glazed doughnut. He glanced over at the clock again, and did a double-take. 11:32! Shit! But if he hurried, he might be able to squeeze in a quickie before he showered.

"Um, Catherine? Do you think you could untie me? I'd really, really like to finish what you started."

She lazily opened one eye. "Finish what?"

He gestured with his chin at his raging hard-on. "That. You. You know."

She laughed. "I'll untie you, but the only thing you're going to do is get ready. We have a game to get to. There's no time for any dilly-dallying, Pete."

"But Catherine, I really need to at least take care of this before I go. I'm going to be in serious pain soon."

"Let me think about it.....hmmmm.....No. You'll live." She reached over and untied his hands, and then sat up and untied his feet. "Race you to the shower!" And with that she was off the bed like a rocket, heading for the bathroom.

Ten minutes of slippery sidestepping later, Pete and Catherine emerged from the shower, and Pete was still very aroused. Catherine had done plenty of not-so-innocent and not-so-unintentional rubbing and brushing up against him and his ultra-sensitive member. Sure, his shower wasn't exactly built for two, but geez... It wasn't like she had to continue to tease and torture him every chance she got.

He was floundering around inside his shirt when she asked oh-so-casually, "So, who ya goin' to the game with?"

Pete thought about pretending he hadn't heard her, but just then his head slipped through the neck hole of his custom-made jersey and he was face to face with her again. "Dave," he replied, thinking about how he could not wait to ask Dave if he'd seen Catherine at the club the night before and if so, what he thought of her.

"Actually, you're not going with Dave after all," she responded, looking him square in the eyes.

"I'm not?"

"No. You're taking me." Her tone left no room for argument. This was going to be interesting.

"And just what am I supposed to tell Dave?" Dave was his band mate and best friend for over half his life, and the two of them shared a pair of season tickets every year. Dave would not take kindly to being dissed for a girl he'd only met the night before.

"Dave's tall, blonde hair, and does most of the singing?"

"Yes," Pete grudgingly allowed, not entirely sure where this was going.

"He already knows he's not going today. I talked to him last night."

"You WHAT?!" Pete was flabbergasted. This was entirely too much.

"Oh, calm down," she said as she wriggled into an impossibly short white denim skirt. Did she keep a change of clothes in her purse, he wondered in a random thought. "I happened to be talking to him last night, and he mentioned that he was supposed to go to the game with you today but he was pretty sure he was going to be sleeping at some Angela chic's house and might not make it." She disappeared inside an obscenely hot red tank top, and he was keenly aware that she had not put on a bra. "I told him not to worry; I'd be more than happy to go with you."

Oh. My. God. Pete was speechless. This was nearly bordering on insanity. Or obsession. Either way, it was just not even acceptable for him to go to the game with a chick. Chicks didn't really appreciate the game, as a rule. Sure, there were a few who did, but he didn't think Catherine fell into that category. Even if she did look hot in a red tank top and white mini skirt.

"You'll have fun, Pete. I promise. I've been a fan as long as I can remember. Go ahead. Ask me a question."

"What's Edmonds' batting average?"

"After Saturday's game, it was .271."

"Who has a higher average, Pujols or Marquis?" He shot off another question, expecting her to get tripped up for sure.

"Marquis, but Pujols isn't far behind." She fired back.

"Who leads the team in stolen bases?"

"Reggie Sanders," she said with a grin.

"Which major league team did Matt Morris play for before the Cards?"

"None. He came up from the minors, and started with the Cards in '97."

Damn, she was good. Perhaps the game might be ok after all.

"C'mon, Pete. We've got to go or we're going to be late. You can keep quizzing me in the car, ok?"

+ + +

His seats were in section 346. They were decent, with a full view of the field from above and behind home plate. He'd had the same season tickets for three years now, as did many of the fans around him. Every once in awhile, though, he'd finagle seats in the corporate box, with free beer and free food – usually hot dogs and maybe toasted ravioli or chicken fingers, nothing fancy, but it was the ballpark after all. Those times were a nice change from the nosebleed seats, with a few rows of stadium seats outside the box to provide the real game atmosphere, but with air conditioning, comfortable seats, and TV viewing just a few steps away. But today was not one of those days, unfortunately. On the other hand, if he had been in the corporate box, he certainly wouldn't have been taking Catherine with him. "Associates only" was the corporate mantra when it came to The Box.

They had hardly sat down, when Catherine leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. "I think I forgot something."

"What's that?" He wasn't too concerned – he'd buy her beer and they could share nachos.

"My panties," she cooed, sliding his hand up her skirt, where nothing stopped his finger from sliding in between her lips.

Damn. Damn damn damn, he thought. This was going to be one hell of a long game.

The game itself was uneventful, and Catherine wasn't bad company. She knew her baseball, she wasn't obnoxious, and she enjoyed beer nearly as much as he did, which helped take his mind off the fact that she was bare under her clothes and he was still extremely horny.

+ + +

When the game was over, Pete liked to head straight home. Catherine, however, had other ideas. She told him she knew a shortcut out of the stadium, but they had to wait a little while before they could use it. Pete wasn't terribly thrilled, but Catherine was fun to talk to, and he wasn't really looking forward to waiting in line in the parking garage anyway – if he was going to have to wait, he supposed he might as well wait in the stadium.

When the seats were mostly cleared out and the cleaning crew was nearing their row, Catherine grabbed his hand and led him down the steps and out toward the concession stands. They started walking down the ramps that led to the street, still talking about the game. Catherine was convinced that their luck was about to run out, and without some magic in the bullpen, the winning streak was going to end soon. Pete wasn't so sure, feeling that a strong defense was always their best asset, and their defense this season was outstanding.

Before he had time to react, Catherine had opened a plain grey door and was pulling him down a long, narrow hallway. This was quite an interesting shortcut, but Pete was concerned that she was taking him somewhere they weren't supposed to be, and he didn't want to spend the rest of his afternoon in jail.

He stopped and pulled her back. "Come on, Catherine, I don't think we're supposed to be down here."

She laughed. "Sure we can. The door wasn't locked, was it?"

Well, he thought, she had a point, but that could mean that someone just forgot to lock it. "Catherine, this isn't a public part of the stadium. I really think we need to just go back out the way we came in."

She pulled him close and nibbled on his earlobe. "What if I told you that I'm taking you to the locker room?"

"Catherine, we can't go in the locker room. You and I both know that's off limits to the general public. We are gonna be so busted if anyone finds us down here."

"Pete, why can't you just trust me?"

"Trust you? I hardly know you!"

She just gave him a look that shut him up rather quickly. "Come on. We don't have much time." She grabbed his hand again and led him down the hallway, down a brightly lit stairwell, and through several more hallways, some of which Pete recalled seeing in the background of player interviews on TV. He had to give her credit – she apparently knew exactly where she was going. The few people they passed didn't give them a second glance, maybe because Catherine looked like she knew where she was going? Pete wasn't sure, but so far she seemed to know what she was doing, and his fear eased somewhat...until they came to a door marked LOCKER ROOM guarded by a very large man in a police uniform. Aw, crap. Busted.

"Hey, little lady. Where you think you're goin'?" His voice was gruff and no-nonsense.

"Inside." Catherine was very matter-of-fact, and Pete couldn't believe she was going to push her luck this far.

"You know you're not supposed to do that, Cat." Cat? This guy knew her??

"Is the coast clear, Reggie?"

"Yep."

"Thanks. We won't be long." Catherine gave the guard a kiss on the cheek and he stepped aside, allowing them to pull open the heavy door and slip inside.

Pete was in awe. This was the inner sanctum – the Cardinal's locker room. A place only the team and the press had access to, outside of the stadium cleaning and support staff. And after this season, this locker room would be a pile of dust, replaced by a new stadium with a new locker room.

"Go ahead – look around. I know you want to."

Pete wandered around, still in awe, tracing his finger over Scott Rolen's nameplate, seeing the cart of dirty uniforms from the game waiting to be collected by the laundry service, inhaling the smell of sweat and testosterone and cologne. He checked out the showers, still wet from post-game clean-up, and then the training room, with the big massage tables and tanks used for hydrotherapy. Unbelievable, he thought, running his hand over one of the blue padded tables. This is probably the very table Marquis lays on for a rub-down after pitching a few innings.

Catherine ran her hands up his sides and slid them down inside the front of his shorts. "I believe we have a little unfinished business to take care of."

Pete felt himself start to harden. But she couldn't be serious. Not here, with Reggie the Guard right outside the door, with laundry waiting to be picked up and a cleaning crew coming momentarily to clean up the mess the players left behind.

She unfastened his pants and tugged them down around his ankles. He turned around to find her on her knees and she wasted no time in pulling his erection to her waiting mouth.

"Catherine? What do you think you're doing?" Her only response was to swallow him, trapping the head of his now very hard cock between her tonsils as she played with his balls. Damn, she was good, he thought, closing his eyes and surrendering to the feel of her warm mouth and caressing fingers.

But the pleasure didn't last nearly long enough – she had stood up and pushed him down on the table, hiked her skirt up and impaled herself on his dick before he had a chance to react. Her breasts were thrust against her red tank top, nipples hard and pointy, and he reached up to caress them. Pulling her down, he licked and sucked those little pleasure points through the red material until she was moaning. He soon realized that while the tank was hot, it was seriously in the way, so with one swift motion, he pulled it off her and tossed it aside.

Catherine was pistoning herself up and down on him, riding his cock like a Disneyland ride. Her tits were bouncing around and her head was thrown back as she ground herself down, pulling him deep. He was rapidly approaching the point of no return, and he warned her.

"I'm really close, Catherine," he said, grabbing her hips to slow her down.

"You won't cum until I say you can," she replied, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down by his ears. She continued to work her dripping snatch up and down his rod, rubbing her clit against his pubic bone.

Just when he thought he couldn't stand it another minute, she slammed her cunt down and grunted "Come. Now."

He let loose, and jets of sperm sprayed her insides while she contracted around him. Moments later, she collapsed on top of him and released his hands, which he wrapped around her as their heartbeats slowly returned to normal.

She kissed him, a slow, lingering kiss, before sliding off him and putting her tank top back on. He got up and pulled his pants back up, his eyes traveling over the locker room one last time. He would never watch another player interview the same way again.

When they left the locker room, Reggie the Guard gave him a wink but didn't say a word. Pete briefly wondered if he had been spying on them, but quickly dismissed the thought. If he had been, Pete just didn't want to know. Catherine led him back through the tunnels, and they emerged near the main gate. The walk to the car was quiet, and it was a quick drive back to her car at the bar, now that all the baseball traffic had dissipated.

He kissed her goodbye, and she said she'd call him later. As she was just about to get out of the car, he stopped her.

"Catherine, wait. I do have one question – how on earth do you have access to the locker room?"

She smiled and slipped out of the car. "Red Schoendienst is my grandpa." And with a wink, she shut the door and walked inside.