October 1947

"OH - OH - OH!" Beatrice exclaimed in a shuddering moan.

Releasing her nipple with a soft sucking pop, Dennis whispered, "Just wait until I stroke your clit, my dear Beatrice."

"My what?" she said so softly that I had to strain to hear although scant inches from her mouth.

My fingers had already crawled over a garter, brushed against her girdle, and were at the apex of her crotch, and I detected both a strange aroma and wetness emanating from the gusset of her underwear.

"Your clit, Beatrice, every woman has one," Dennis was saying. "One might say it is the key to all pleasure.

"OHHH, WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?"

"Lean back a bit for me. That's the girl," Dennis cooed seductively while easing her down on the settee. I had already dropped to one knee in order to maintain my place at her dampened crotch.

"That's it," he continued, "spread your legs a bit more."

Beatrice was shaking so badly at this point that I feared she might go into a convulsive state. "Is she..." I started to say, when Dennis interrupted me. "She's fine, Roy, continue with what you're doing."

I was amazed at the lack of resistance on her part, and then it occurred to me that Dennis had probably determined that poor Beatrice was ripe for plucking.

I was amazed that she hadn't called a halt yet. Most of the young ladies of virtue put up at least a token resistance. She must be absolutely ripe for plucking, I thought, and chuckled nervously.

Dennis slowly drew her dress upward. "Beatrice, my dear, hold this for me, please." The seemingly sluggish girl grasped the material in her hand obediently.

"That's a good girl."

Both Dennis and I maneuvered her legs further apart. I could see her pink undies quite clearly, and the center point covering her thickly bushed cunt was quite wet with her excitement.

Keep your eyes closed, Beatrice, my sweet. You'll really appreciate what comes next, I promise you," Dennis crooned into her ear.

Then, before I could react, Dennis' hand brushed mine aside and burrowed under her pink undies to the secret place Beatrice normally touched only when bathing.

Her body jerked convulsively as his hand reached her nether lips. I watched as his hand moved about under the gossamer material covering her cunt. Smiling wolfishly, Dennis withdrew his hand and displayed his wet fingers to me.

His fingers quickly returned to her sex and Beatrice groaned as her hips involuntarily jerked upward.

"Ah, yes, Beatrice. Let me pleasure you," he whispered as her thrusting continued unabated.

I believe she started to scream, but anticipating it, Dennis covered her mouth with his free hand. "No, no, don't scream, try to be quiet. We don't want the conductor joining us, do we now?"

Beatrice moaned softly in acceptance, and he croaked, "Good, that's a good girl. Now open wider for us."

He pushed the loose, drenched material into her slit. "Does that feel good? I think that it does, Beatrice. I can feel you dripping all over my fingers."

Beatrice moaned and I glanced at her breasts, her nipples stood out about a half inch signaling her intense pleasure at our ministrations to her bodies sexual parts.

"Finger her, Roy," Dennis said, and I did, sinking first one digit into her marshmallowy soft folds and then managing a second until I met resistance, probably from her hymen.

Dennis' hand crossed mine as he sought out the tiny nubbin that is known as the clitoris and gently rubbed over it time and time again while the young thing moaned repeatedly.

"I'm touching your clit, Beatrice. The proper name for it is clitoris, it's just a tiny thing really, but super sensitive, don't you agree?"

"Ohhhh!" she moaned.

"That's it," he said, urging her on, "move your hips. Do you like me touching you there? And how about where Roy is fingering you?"

She muttered something unintelligible.

"Cum for us, Beatrice," Dennis said with a rising urgency. "I know you're close. Can you cum for us?"

As I dug into her slippery folds my balls were roiling with the need to ejaculate, and I had to assume Dennis was similarly affected.

Suddenly, Beatrice's breath stopped, her hips arched up off the settee, and she came with small spurts of love juice ejaculating over my fingers and palm as she stared unseeingly at the ceiling.

Dennis held his hand still, waiting for the muscle spasms to stop, feeling the tiny bump of her clit throbbing madly as her sexual apparatus boiled over. I wondered if he would attempt having her accept both our rampant cocks, one by mouth, one by cunt, but perhaps he wanted to take those orifices in a more salubrious surrounding. Then again, perhaps he felt he had pushed her far enough for one day.

While I wasted time wondering about what we would do next, Dennis covered her mouth with his, tonguing her mercilessly while sending his index finger into the hot little cunt I had just left off of.

Then I caught another movement on his part. He was inserting a drenched finger into her anus!

"OH, MY!" Beatrice gasped, as she came out of her climactic stupor. He kissed her again and she quit any attempt at struggling against the constant pressure he was bringing to bear against the entrance to her rectum.

I watched his finger slowly forcing its way into her virginal ass, I heard Beatrice moan her pleasure into his mouth. Unable to resist participating any longer, I lifted her breast to my mouth and nibbled at each of her turgid nipples in turn.

Her moans grew louder.

I couldn't resist seeing how he was faring with his anal attack and glanced down; saw his long finger being swallowed to the first knuckle. I could clearly see the mouth of her anus sucking wildly at the invasive finger.

Unable to stop myself, I hurriedly unbuttoned my trousers and freed my throbbing cock from its confinement.

"You've done very well Beatrice, I had no idea you were so naughty," Dennis said, praising her; keeping his finger in place, but not venturing any further.

Beatrice opened passion-glazed green eyes and stared at him, not really seeing him, her lips slick from his kisses, cheeks flushed. I saw his cock kick against his trousers, demanding attention. Dennis ignored it for the moment.

"You... you... the finger..." she moaned weakly. "Yes, Beatrice, my finger is in your bottom. Can you feel how your rosebud is suckling on it? I think you like this, don't you, girl? Hmm?" Dennis watched the impact of his words.

Beatrice's eyes fluttered closed then opened. "Hmmm..." she agreed without actually saying yes.

At this point, Dennis made a decision and removed his finger from her asshole. Beatrice flinched at its loss, but would have blushed fifteen shades of red had she seen him raise the two fingers of his right hand to his mouth and smell them deeply, then slide them slowly, sensuously into his mouth and suck them clean of all her fluids.

I released her breast with one last caress, and after tugging her dress down to its normal level, helped Dennis smooth it out. We helped Beatrice to her feet, and took turns kissing her for several lovely minutes.

She was still somewhat in a daze, and didn't notice me shove my erection back into my trousers. She did take notice of us both standing before her with our dicks thrusting out so forcibly that it must have tested the strength of the trousers material.

."Beatrice?" Dennis cooed seductively, "Do you hear me?"

"Huh? Oh... yes, I hear you, Mr. Dennis."

"Can you imagine, after all that, you're still a virgin. Isn't that nice?"

"Yes, it is," she replied, although she seemed somewhat disconcerted. Turning to face us, she said, "Mr. Dennis, Mr. Shannon. I'm still intact then?"

"Oh, yes," I said agreeably. While Dennis nodded his head.

Beatrice glanced down at our erections. "Does it hurt to be so stiff down there?"

"A little," Dennis said, but don't fret about it. We'll be fine in a short time. Now, Beatrice, why don't you splash a little cold water on your face?"

And while she splashed some water on her face, Dennis unlocked the door to the powder room and ushered me out, quickly following.

"We'll have her yet, Roy, oh yes, we'll leave her hymen ruptured nine ways from Sunday."

"But we've got the Series game," I said lamely.

""There's life after the game, my good man, and she has a sister."

*****

The train pulled into Pennsylvania Station on time and Beatrice excitedly waved at what I presumed to be her sister through the large window separating her from the platform.

"That's Lizbeth," she fairly shouted excitedly, "My sister!"

Lizbeth was every bit as attractive at Beatrice, only she appeared to be with child.

Dennis picked up on it too, saying, "How far along is she?"

"Almost five months, now. Isn't she pretty?"

Dennis laughed and said, "She is indeed, one can hardly tell she's that far along."

The train came to a stop, and Dennis and I led Beatrice solicitously down the steps of the Pullman car, keeping one hand under each of her elbows. Lizbeth hurried along the platform toward her sister, concern written all over her attractive face at seeing us escorting her younger sibling.

As usual, Dennis was ready with an answer, "Beatrice was feeling a little off-color, so I had her rest a moment before disembarking, but we thought it best..."

He didn't bother finishing the sentence as Lizbeth was already embracing her sister.

"These... two gentlemen have been so kind to me. I can't begin to tell you how much..."

All this said with a straight face. My respect for a woman's ability to lie went up several notches.

We introduced ourselves to Lizbeth, who shook our hands while thanking us for looking out for Beatrice. "It's so kind of you gentlemen to look after Beatrice. I really do appreciate it," Lizbeth said with a dazzling smile.

"It was our pleasure," Dennis said so smoothly that I almost missed the sarcasm in his choice of words.

"In fact, and I must apologize in advance for being so forward, but we understand your husband is serving our country and..." He paused as if knowing what Lizbeth would say and wanted to let her say it.

"Yes, he's in Germany," for a moment it looked like she was about to cry, but she summoned up the strength to fight off the tears of loneliness that had welled up inside her for the months of separation and ended with, "God help him and all our other troops over there."

"Yes, yes, Indeed," I said.

But Dennis seized the moment, saying: "These are troubling times... I had thought that after the war..."

Lizbeth finished the sentence for him, with: "The Russians seem to be provoking us at every turn."

"We have the A-Bomb though, Mrs. Hunt, and that should keep them at bay for the foreseeable future," Dennis said as he took hold of her elbow, and turned her toward the interior of Penn Station, urging us by his action to walk toward the street and the taxi that would whisk us to Ebbets Field.

As we emerged from the cavernous main floor of Pennsylvania station we were smitten by the cacophony of sound epitomizing New York City: car horns, screeching brakes, newspaper vendors hawking the daily papers by yelling out the headlines of the moment, and the bustle of pedestrians, seemingly going in every conceivable direction as the swarmed around us. It was impossible to stand in one place for long. Dennis obtained Lizbeth's phone number and told her he insisted on taking them both to dinner later that evening.

I noted the look of surprise that crossed her face at the invitation; saw Beatrice nudge her with an elbow, and saw the surprised expression leave Lizbeth's face to be replaced by a more knowing look.

"We'd be delighted to join you gentlemen. Where shall we meet?"

"We'll be by to pick you two charming ladies up," Dennis said effortlessly, where I would have stumbled and probably fouled everything up.

Lizbeth gave him her address and repeated the phone number and we hailed a cab for them and saw them off before whistling down a cab for ourselves.

"City Hall, driver," Dennis said, sounding awfully official. The driver nodded once and drove like a madman using Broadway as his avenue of choice in heading Downtown to City Hall.

"The games in an hour and ten minutes," I said nervously.

"I know, Roy," he said, allowing more than a little sarcasm to creep into his voice. "We do however; require tickets to get in, don't we?"

I couldn't believe he had yet to purchase the tickets. "But the game..." I began lamely before it occurred to me that this was why we were headed to City Hall, and I shut up.

The cab pulled up at the entrance to New York City's famous City Hall. I saw a nervous looking man in a three piece suit of very expense cut, pacing back and forth near the entrance doors.

Dennis hopped out of the cab, leaving me alone in the backseat and trotted gracefully up the steps to greet the nervous looking gentleman who quickly handed Dennis an envelope.

Without so much as a thank you, Dennis turned away and loped back to the cab and got in.

"Take us to Ebbets Field, driver and don't spare the horses."

"Going to the Series?'

"We are going to the Series, yes." He replied to the driver's question.

"Are youse Dodger or Yankee fans?"

"We're one of each," Dennis answered, "I'm the Dodger fan," he added, knowing this would lead to a conversation on the merits of each team and the hopes of the driver for one or the other to win.

"The Bum's is down two to zip already. It don look to good for us," the driver said, looking over his shoulder at us as he barreled onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

"That Allie Reynolds was tough on us yesterday, but we'll be back today. There ain't no quit in dem Dodgers," the cabby said, obviously enjoying himself as we spun off the bridge and headed toward Flatbush Avenue.

I entered the famed portals of Charlie Ebbets ballpark with Dennis at my side.

We stood on the Italian marble floor under the baseball bat chandelier while the crowd swirled past us.

"Ever been here before?" Dennis inquired as we walked toward our seats.

"No, I've been to Wrigley of course and Comiskey too. Caught a couple games in Detroit once, and both ball parks in St. Louis. But although I've been to New York twice, I've never seen a baseball game here."

We came out into the open and a sea of green greeted us. It was, as it always is with me, a breathtakingly beautiful sight. Before us, on the field, the batting cage was in place, and Pistol Pete Reiser was hitting. The Brooklyn pitchers, except for Hatten, the starter, were running in the outfield. The rest of the team lounged alertly on the field in their immaculate whites with the blue trim. Some infielders were in the outfield shagging the balls hit there and some outfielders and catchers were cavorting in the infield, making behind the back catches of pop flies.

"They seem relaxed after losing two straight," I said.

"That's in the past," Dennis said, "They're professionals; it doesn't matter if the Yankees kicked their asses 18-0 yesterday. Today is a new day and a new ballgame.

"Bobo Newsom's going today. I said.

"Yeah? Well several Dodgers see him real good," he replied.

An usher showed us to our seats behind the Dodgers dugout on the home plate side rather than the first base side. "These are great seats," I told Dennis.

"Yeah, well it's who you know."

"My guess is you know a lot of people."

"I've been around. You get to know people if you're around long enough."

"The fellow gave you the ducats seemed kinda nervous," I said, fishing for more information.

Dennis bit, and told me, "He had every right to be nervous. I caught him with the Mayor's right hand man's dick up his ass."

"Wouldn't that be more of a problem for the Mayor's man?"

"Might be if you weren't the City Comptroller."

"Hmmm, you have a point there."

"I always have a point, Roy. Now Robinson's going to take his turn, let's watch him."

We watched as the first Negro to play in the major leagues in this century hit line drive after line drive to the farthest reaches of the ball park.

"Reminds me of Stan the Man," I said off the top of my head.

"Some, yeah," Dennis smiled. "See how he looks like he's gonna fly apart as he starts his swing and then his bat levels off and meets the ball squarely? That's Musial."

We watched Robinson hit another screaming line drive off the Schaffer Beer sign in deep left-center and then vacate the batting cage.

"Stanky will be gone next year," Dennis said knowingly.

"And you know this ... how?" I asked.

"They got a kid named Hodges needs to play. He'll move from back-up catcher to first. Robby will take over at his natural position. For that to happen Stanky has to go."

I didn't argue with him. His knowledge of baseball and its inner workings far surpassed mine. What he said made sense, Stanky, although one of the better second basemen in the majors was getting old; and if Hodges could hit with power ... well you'd be hard pressed to keep him on the bench. As for first base, Robinson was clearly uncomfortable there. It was entirely possible he would blossom at the four position with his speed and agility.

The crowd continued to file in, and the excitement rose with each passing minute.

"We missed seeing DiMaggio hit didn't we?" I said.

"That must have been about an hour ago," Dennis replied laconically. "Usually its only the kids get here that early. They catch one of his longer shots he might sign the ball after he's finished batting."

"That's nice of him," I said.

"He's a shy guy, but likes the kids. Adults make him uncomfortable. When he goes out its usually with an entourage. They fend off the bothersome types. He's a regular at Toots Shor's although you can't get near him.

We each had a beer bought from a vendor bouncing up and down the steps while a Dodger coach swatted long, lazy fungoes out to the outfield. The crowd, mostly men, many of them with boys, scorecards clutched in their hands, filtered slowly into their seats.

Over the loudspeakers, Buddy Clark was singing "Linda." I sipped my beer as we listened to it. Dennis finished a cigarette and snubbed it carelessly with his foot into the stadium's concrete flooring. I saw that it wasn't completely out, and a small acrid twist of smoke rose from it still. I leaned across him and snuffed the butt until it was completely out.

"What do you think...?" He started to say, but I interrupted him.

"Of the girls? I like the both of them. Why, do you favor one over the other?"

My question caught Dennis off guard. It may have been the first time I ever did so.

"Yeah, the girls; they'll put out, I guarantee it. And to answer your question, no, I don't care which one I wind up with."

"And how did you come to that conclusion?" I asked, extremely interested in his answer.

That got me a wolfish grin. "Like most women, their first consideration was are we matrimonial material? In that regard we passed with flying colors."

"But Lizbeth's married," I protested.

"He's in Germany. Might get killed at any time. Who knows? It doesn't hurt to have a fellow in the bull-pen, so to speak."

"How callous is that?" I said.

"The ladies think ahead. They have to look out for themselves."

"So, is Beatrice really a virgin?" I asked, knowing he had the answer.

"Not surprisingly, yes. Her mother has kept the men at bay. It seems Lizbeth got the hots for guys early on. My guess is she had a close call with pregnancy early on. Umm, before, well before husband number one. That had the mother on the alert to anything in pants. Anyway, Lizbeth married him just before her twentieth birthday, and got knocked up in a flurry of frenzied fucking just before he shipped out."

"How the hell...?"

"I listen to everything a woman has to say, and then I read between the lines. Toss in a dollop of human nature and that's the result."