Three Ways In (Twi) From her blog
Batter Up!
Current mood:Horny
Category: Sports
It’s said that only boring people are boring. That being said, Master has a keen knack for keeping my life interesting. He can turn the most mundane shopping venture into a humiliating foray of my worst fears. Here’s his latest effort. (He likes me to use Twitter to post my nefarious tasks for public derision, but this one didn’t work out quite as well in that format.)
If you’ve ever seen a photo online of a girl with a baseball bat in her pussy (or a$$), you really have to stop and look for a while and possibly speculate on how such a photo might come about. Master had a notion about such a back-story and took me to a sporting goods store to put it to the test – this is taking on a "myth busters" tone. As he disclosed his idea, my heart sank then it stopped when he said he wanted to catch it on video.
He went inside as I sat in the car. I was to follow ten minutes later. I sat nervously in the passenger seat going over my dialogue. It wasn’t bad enough that I was wearing a micro mini skirt, a tube-top and was propped up on 6-inch heels. I had to find a salesman and get him to help me purchase the "right" baseball bat. I had to explain to the salesman that my BF was on a softball team and needed a "lucky bat". I wanted to christen the bat "lucky" by inserting it in my vagina. (I doubt there are any major-leaguers who would attribute twat-rot to a successful batting average.)
I had to get the salesman to help me select a bat that would fit in my pussy. As I waited patiently in the car, Master was inside hiding a video camera on a shelf by the bats. He would alert me to it’s location so I could ensure the highlights of my humiliation would live on in video history. Hello YouTube. I felt completely out of place as the big glass doors opened in front of me. I saw Master and casually followed behind him as he led me to the correct isle. He placed his hand on a shelf and looked at me. So now I knew where his camera was. Now I had to find a salesman – or some kid with a name-tag.
I found a cute guy and explained I wanted to buy a bat for my BF and knew nothing about them. As if divinely guided, he led me right to Master’s stashed camera and began asking me questions about height, weight and some other things I glazed over. I suddenly felt kind of flirty, but the bat was allegedly for my BF and I had to tell him that I wanted to stuff it up my c_nt. Maybe romance wasn’t going to blossom over this sale. He tried to be polite and not gawk at me, but I was showing enough skin to be rightly escorted out the door.
Finally, I stopped him and got to the heart of the matter. I explained that this was to be my BF’s lucky bat and that I wanted to christen it for him. He looked at me quizzically. I wiggled my hips and said I wanted to make it s-p-e-c-i-a-l and winked at him. No good. I told him I wanted to put it somewhere special for my BF. Still nothing. How slutty do I have to look to connect the dots on "I’m going to f_ck the bat!"
I finally had to say it. My salesman’s mouth dropped and his eyes widened. I think he was waiting for a camera crew to jump out and give him a big cardboard check or something. I had to remain serious about it. This wouldn’t work if he thought I was pulling a prank of some sort.
"Look I know this sounds strange, but I really want to do this for him," i said. "He’ll be so turned on and it will totally help his game."
"I just don’t want to get one that’s… you know… too big."
The salesman smiled at me and almost laughed, but I think I conveyed enough honesty to pull it off. I gave him a sweet smile and asked if he could please help me. I pulled a random bat off the shelf and massaged the end, then asked him about sizes. He was turning red. I pulled down another one, pretending to compare their girth. He stood silent. I said my BF had a very large penis, but I couldn’t really tell which bat to buy. Then I asked my salesman if he wanted to see my pussy. I slid my hand up my thigh as I asked, making sure he noticed my lack of panties. I even went so far as to put one foot up on a lower shelf to spread a little. I remained dead serious with honest intentions.
Naturally, I became curious about my vagina’s ability to swallow a major league sporting implement. The store was very quiet, so I figured I should have some real fun with the situation. As I brought the bat closer to my crotch, my salesman shifted nervously and tried to ask me another question to divert what he feared I might do right there in the isle. Ignoring his anxiety, I raised my foot to the next shelf. Looking past his right shoulder, I looked at the camera, smiled and raised the front of my skirt. His gaze went from my tits to my pussy. I parted my lips with tow fingers and asked what he thought. He fidgeted and I was afraid he might pa$$ out. I could tell he was debating whether to walk away or enjoy the show. He stayed.
I pressed the bat against my inner thigh and asked what he thought. Not a sound. In the silence I realized my heart was pounding. I might have been as anxious as he was! I asked point blank if he thought it would fit in my pussy. More silence. I realized as I became more nervous about the whole scenario, I was also becoming much bolder and seemingly fearless. I knew Master was "watching" from the nearby shelf. I pushed the end of the bat against my moist pussy, letting my salesman (and Master) see that I was earnest in my quest for the right bat. I was about to lose my salesman, so I backed down a bit. I put my foot back on the floor. He seemed much more at ease. He told me he thought the bat would do just fine.
I pointed out that I’d gotten the bat wet and giggled. He went white as a sheet, then red. I could tell this was all going to end soon, so I had to make a final ploy. I handed him the bat. He looked stunned. I smiled and asked if he thought a bat that would fit my pussy might also fit in my a$$. After all, that would make it even more special, right? I spun around and bent over touching the floor. If nothing else, my a$$hole was now exposed on camera. I figured THAT had to be good for Master’s video archive. i smiled at my salesman as I rose up and my tiny flap of a skirt fell into place.
We were probably both flustered, so I ended it and bought the bat. Here’s the kicker!
I get out to the car where Master was waiting after retrieving his camera during my checkout. First question he asked, "Why did you BUY the bat?" WTF!?! He didn’t expect me to buy the f_cking bat. I couldn’t get my f_ck-juice all over it in the damn store and NOT buy it. That would be rude. As a consequence, Master’s bat was later christened that evening as his friends watched me. I’ve been promised it will also get the anal-christening I spoke of, but that would save for a later day. Shop till you drop!!
What, she met Belladonna?
My kind of girl!
The internet chatrooms are rapidly replacing afternoon tea parties and local coffee shops where bored, boring, desperate, middle age, over wieght house wives who have no innovativity and pleasure in their lives used to meet and share their implausible, ridiculuos sexual fantasies. This is supposed to be funny, but instead it’s sad. It only showcases how simple unsatisfied carnal needs can turn into perversive and often self destructive obsessions and overactive imaginations. If you ask me, it’s a human tragedy.
You ruin all the fun!
Ruby, that was only a reality check. Maybe it did ruin a few pathetic, worthless fantasies too, who cares? The point is I have zero tolerance for blabbering desperate house wives who are all talk and no action. Their husbands don’t fuck them anymore, so they dream of delivery boys and baseball bats which is fine as long as they keep those dreams to themselves and don’t share them with those people who have no time, reason or interest to listen to them.
Colonel, Have you ever tried medication? You obviously need it. Do you realize that all you ever do on this board is slam everyone from your anonymous keyboard? You are a real downer.
Biatch, have you ever tried a healthy diet? You obviously need that more than I need medication. I’m fine Biatch, I’m just more intelectual and smarter than you and that’s why I’m hard to please. Besides, I’m not anonymous, people on and off this board know me very well. Ask Cindi if you doubt me.
P.S: How many donuts did you have today? Keep it up, Biatch.
Sounds to me like our little colonel is one of those brutish shut-ins who only feels powerful at the expense of others.
How sad his only joy is to concoct the notion I’m a fat bored housewife. He managed to post it several times for some reason. Perhaps that makes him feel his allegation has some truth to it.
Angry people tend to make me laugh. They’re so funny in the way they MUST be believed or revered as important. I’m sure he’d be much happier if he had sex now & then, but not too many bitter little men get laid.
ThreeWaysIn says:
‘I’m sure he’d be much happier if he had sex now & then, but not too many bitter little men get laid.’
Thank you for proving my point: you are a bored, ignorant loser with a limited imagination and even less information about the subject of your speculation and the people you’re talking to. For better or worse, I’m having more sex than you can even imagine in your little head. That’s my job. Some days it’s great, some days it’s awful, some days it’s just the same. So trust me, what makes me angry and bitter is not the lack of sex, it’s stupid, big mouthed people like you.
Next time try a hammer instead of a baseball bat.