Batter Up!
by brooksie
An L & C story involving softball, beer & cherry picking.


"Nothing wrong with this day!" Al called out, as he tossed the ball to
his friend Pete.

"You got that right," came the reply.

It was one of those prime, late summer days, warm and sunny, but with a
bit of hazy cloud cover and a light breeze that made the temperature
perfectly comfortable. While the guys  continued throwing the ball back
and forth, a third man, Roger, pulled up and parked his car against the
curb, just behind the backstop. He got out, opened the trunk and pulled
out a glove, a couple of bats and a cooler. Grinning, he made his way
over to the diamond.

"Ho, ho, looks like we were wrong Al," Pete said, nodding towards Roger,
"something was missing, after all."

"You talking about me, or the beer?" Roger laughed.

"Brewski's, of course," Pete snorted, "you're expendable, but the beer
is a must-have."

"I don't know," Al said, as the Roger set the cooler down on the first
row of bleachers and tossed the guys a cold one, "we might not have a
lot of players today. I didn't get hold to too many people. Left a few
messages, but no one called back to confirm.

"Yep," said Roger, "one of the last nice weekends of the summer. I doubt
we'll get enough for teams.

"Probably not," Pete agreed. "Oh well, we'll just play scrub."

"Even that's not much fun with only three," Al remarked pessimistically.

"Well some others are bound to show up," Roger confidently predicted.
"So, who's up for shagging a few fly balls?"

He picked up the bat and ball, trotting over to home plate, while Pete
and Al, gloves and beers in hand, headed for the outfield. They spend
about a half-hour taking turns hitting balls into the outfield for the
other two to catch, waiting to see if anyone else was going to show.
After a while, they took a break. Gathering around the cooler for a
second beer, they tried to figure out what to do while waiting to see if
any more friends were going to show for this hastily organized pickup
game of softball.

After some discussion, they decided that by using only half the
diamond...as far as second base, and not bothering to have anyone pitch,
they could improvise some kind of game. Al took first turn at bat. He
tossed the ball up in the air and then belted it into the outfield. Pete
ran it down and fired it to Roger at second base, but not in time. Al
got there first, touched his foot on the bag and trotted back to home
plate for his next hit. In this way, they managed to kill some more
time. A few of the hits were caught as fly balls and there were a couple
of throw-outs, but most of the time it was pretty easy to find a hole
that would allow the batter to make it to second rather easily,
especially since the batter was merely tossing the ball up in the air
and then whacking it.

Standing around the infield, they were discussing ways of making the
contest somehow more competitive, when Pete noticed three teenage girls
sitting high up in the bleachers. He thought nothing of it at first.
They were probably just neighbourhood kids who used the ball field as a
hangout. Meanwhile, it was decided that only half the outfield would be
fair territory, so it wouldn't be as easy to place the ball opposite to
wherever the fielder was standing. That worked a bit better but, by the
time they broke for another beer, they were pretty much ready to call it
a day, at least as far as the ball playing went.

While Al and Roger discussed other ideas for how they might spend the
rest of the afternoon, Pete glanced back up at the  grandstand and
inadvertently locked eyes with one of the three girls who were sitting
up there. He quickly took in three pieces of information: one, her
friends were busily chatting away but she was staring down at Pete and
his pals, two, she was a bit bigger and more athletic-looking than the
other two girls and three, she had a baseball glove with her, which Pete
had not noticed earlier.

"Hey," he said, nudging Al, "I think we might have some recruits,"
nodding up towards the top row of bleachers.

Al looked in that direction.

"Jeez, Pete! They're just kids. I mean, I know we're not out for a
serious game or anything, but come on."

Pete paid him no attention.

"Hey!" he yelled up at the girl, "you feel like playing some ball?"

"Ok," she answered.

"What about your friends?"

The girl turned to her two companions and they had a quick discussion.
It was petty obvious from their body language the other two not only did
not want to play, but were about to take off. It seemed like they trying
to get her to come with them, but the girl grabbed her glove and came
down onto the field instead.

She was a little bit muscular, just enough to give her frame an athletic
appearance and fairly tall, but otherwise looked to be a normal girl of
her age, which he guessed to be fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. She
had well developed, strong looking legs but mainly just seemed like a
healthy teen girl. She wore a pair of loose-fitting gym shorts, light
blue with a big, white drawstring on the outside, a sleeveless top with
thick, horizontal stripes and canvas running shoes with no socks. A
greenish ball cap on top of her curly, shoulder length, reddish-blonde
hair. She had bright blue eyes and a face full of freckles. Pete
estimated her height and to be around 5'6 -5'7, weight maybe 120 - 125
lbs.

"My name's Pete, what's yours?"

"Traci," she replied, sticking out her hand.

Pete shook it.

"This is Al," indicating his friend beside him, "and this is Roger,"
Pete said, pointing to the older of the three guys.

Traci shook the hands of the other two guys as well.

"I didn't think you were ever going to get around to asking me to play,
you bad boy," she told Pete, with a playfully scolding tone in her
voice.

Pete blushed a bit at being chided like that by this brash young girl in
front of his buddies, but didn't say anything.

"Well, we thought a few more of the regular crew were going to show up,"
Roger told her.

"Do you think they might still come?"

"I doubt it," Roger replied, shaking his head.

"Guess everyone decided to get out of town for the weekend," commented
Al.

"Too bad," Traci said, "I guess you're lucky I'm here, huh?"

Pete and Al exchanged glances. The unspoken message that she seemed
pretty high on herself passed between them. Meanwhile Roger just
chuckled. Looking at her well-used glove, he asked her if she'd played a
lot of ball.

"Uh-huh. I play on a team and I used to play with my Dad and his friends
a lot."

"What's the matter, you get too good for them?" Al asked, his voice a
tad cutting.

She appeared not to notice, and for the first time her voice lost some
of the bright, confident tone it had had up to that point.

"No, my parents split up so, you know. I don't see my Dad that much
anymore."

She sounded sad and Al was instantly ashamed for his sarcastic question.
He went to pull another beer from the cooler, but stopped and looked at
the other two guys before opening it. With his eyes, he indicated Traci.
The young girl saw his look and caught on quickly.

"I don't care if you're drinking beer. My dad and his buddies always
drank beer when they played. It's no big deal."

Al shrugged and pulled out three cans.

"Have you got anything else in here, pop or something?" he asked Roger,
who shook his head in reply.

"That's ok," said Traci. "I've got water. I'm fine."

"Come on, let's get going here," urged Pete.

He was curious to see if this cocky young girl had any skills or not.
With four players now, it was decided one would double as
pitcher/infielder, with two outfielders and a batter. They offered to
let Traci go to bat first. She jogged over to home plate, where Roger
had left the heavier of the two bats he'd brought. Expecting that a few
women might turn out, he had brought a lighter bat as well, which was
leaning against the backstop.

Traci had picked up the bat that was lying there, so Roger suggested she
grab the other one behind her. Still holding the heavier bat, she looked
back, spotted the other one and picked it up too. Holding both out at
arm's length, she shook them slightly, testing their weight. To the
surprise of all three of the men, she leaned the lighter bat back up
against the mesh of the backstop and returned to the plate with the same
bat they'd been using.

"Nah," she called out, "too wimpy. I like a real bat."

Roger shrugged. He turned around to call out to the other guys.

"Are we still just using first and second?"

"I guess," Pete replied.

"Ok Traci, you have to make it to second to stay at bat, all right?"

"Sure," she laughed, "no problem."

The other two couldn't hear her say that, but Roger smiled again at her
cockiness. Cute kid, he thought. Since no balls or strikes going to be
called, so he just lobbed an easy one, but misjudged and it sailed over
her head. She picked it up and fired it back, overhand. The ball sunk
into Roger's glove with a loud "thwack" and he winced slightly at the
sting in his palm. This time he concentrated on the pitch. It still
wasn't a great one, a bit high and outside, but Traci stepped into it
and belted it down the first base line, catching Al off guard. He ran
after it, but by the time he retrieved the ball and turned to throw it,
Traci had already touched second base and was trotting back to the
plate. The next two pitches were about as accurately thrown as the last
but Traci still managed to hit them deep into the outfield, past Pete
and Al. On the third one, Al got to it in time to at least attempt a
throw out, but Traci easily made it to second well ahead of the ball.
Three hits, three returns to bat, and she still hadn't really had a
decent pitch to swing at.

"Come on, let's see one that's actually over the plate she called out to
Roger. Embarrassed, he took his time and lobbed in a beauty. Traci swung
with a smooth, easy motion, the tip of the bat starting from well behind
her shoulder. She made contact with the ball, followed through on her
swing and smacked it hard. All four of them watched it arc high and sail
over the fence behind center field.

"Wow!" Roger gasped, "nice hit!"

"Just needed a half-decent pitch," she said, smiling.

Meanwhile, Pete and Al were looking at each other in shock. They played
in this park all the time, and had rarely seen anyone hit a ball over
that part of the fence, the furthest possible point from home plate.
Pete retrieved the ball, threw it back to Roger, then called for a quick
"refreshment break". While Roger and Traci chatted at the pitcher's
mound, he and Al stood in right field, sipping their beer.

"Jesus, this kid can hit," Pete said.

"I know, she's making it look easy too."

"You think we ought to make it third instead of second?"

"If we don't, we're liable to be out here all afternoon," Al replied,
and they both laughed. They set the beer cans back down and Pete threw
the ball in.

"Hey", he called out, "how about the batter has to get to third base to
stay up?"

Instead of answering right away Traci and Roger became involved in a
discussion. From where they were standing Al and Pete couldn't hear what
was being said. Curious, they ran into the infield.

"What's going on?" Pete asked, "You don't want to try using third?"

"Forget third," said Traci, "why don't we just play regular?"

"But that means you have to hit a home run every time," protested Al.

"That's what I told her," said Roger.

"Hey, I'm not too worried.

Pete glanced over at Traci and, once more, locked eyes with her. Smiling
confidently, she met his gaze and held it. It was as if she was making a
challenge.

"Look," he said, "just because you got one lucky hit..."

"Hey," Traci interrupted, "that wasn't a lucky hit. If you don't believe
me, why don't you try pitching for a while? Besides," she added
teasingly, "this might be the only way you get a chance a bat."

Pete shot her a look but didn't say anything. Instead he just held out
his glove towards Roger, who put the ball into it and went to join Al in
the outfield. While part of him found Traci's cocky attitude kind of
funny, another part wanted to take her down a peg or two. Rather than
lob his pitches in as Roger had, Pete pitched as if it were a
competitive game. The first one was too far outside the plate for her to
reach so she let it go. The ball bounced off the backstop and rolled
almost all the way back to home plate. Traci picked it up and whipped it
back, throwing the ball even harder than she had to Roger earlier. Al
could hear the slapping sound it made, even from where he was standing.
Ouch, that had to smart, he thought. Pete's hand was burning slightly
and he found himself thinking he was glad that hadn't been a fastball.
Looking towards the plate, he saw Traci grinning back at him. The
expression on her face seemed to say "get it over the plate, or else."
This time he slowed the pitch down a bit and focused. It was right in
the pocket and Traci, with her smooth, easy swing responded by sending
the pitch over the right field fence. He got a bit of a ribbing from Al,
as Roger went to fetch the ball. This time he tried a harder pitch and
got that one over the plate as well. Unfortunately, the result was
almost the same. Two pitches, two home run shots out of the park.

Traci occupied herself by taking a drink of water while Al got the ball
this time. Pete stood at the pitcher's mound, fuming at this young girl
who seemed to be making a fool out of him. He caught the throw-in from
Al and turned around to see Traci, a taunting smile on her face,
sticking her cute little butt out at him. Pissed, he was determined not
to let her get another home run. He deliberately threw to the inside of
the plate. It was low, and in a game, would have been called a "ball",
but Traci took a slicing, golf-like cut at it and lined it out to left
field. She immediately took off for first, while Roger loped after the
ball. Pete was yelling for him to hurry up as we waited impatiently at
home plate for the relay throw from Pete in the infield. By the time
Roger caught up to the ball rolling on the ground, picked it up and
threw it to Al, Traci was rounding third and barrelling towards home.
Pete was waiting right on the baseline, blocking the plate, but if he
thought that would intimidate her, he was wrong. She and the ball
reached him at almost the same time. Pete caught the ball first and
swivelled just in time to collide head on with Traci sliding into home.
He'd positioned himself in a way that made it impossible for her to
avoid him, but when they did meet, it was her momentum that prevailed
over Pete's larger bulk. His legs went out from under him and the ball
flew out of his glove. She dusted herself off as she stood up, saw the
ball lying a few feet away from home plate and raised her arms, about to
celebrate her "inside-the-park" homer, when she heard Pete groan. She
looked down to see him on his back, clutching his left knee.

"Oh my god, are you all right?" she cried out, squatting down beside
him.

Pete couldn't answer. He was clearly in a lot of pain and both Pete and
Roger were now there, bending over him as well. They got him to lie flat
on his back and Roger, who had first aid training, tried to find out how
bad the injury was. Already, he could see the knee beginning to swell
and knew that, at the very least, Pete was likely going to be off his
feet for a few days.

"We'd better get some ice on that, pronto," he said. "Al, there's a
towel in my car. Grab it and wrap some ice from the cooler in it. While
Al went to improvise an ice pack, Roger got Pete sitting up.

"Let's get you over to the bleachers and get some ice on that thing.
Keep your weight off it and lean on me, ok? Think you can stand up?"

Roger tried to help him up, but it was awkward and hard to do without
putting any weight at all on the leg. They tried twice, but both times
Pete cried out in agony as he tried to stand, and collapsed back onto
his butt.

"Here, I can get him," Traci volunteered and got down on her knees
beside him. Pete was able to bend the knee slightly, enough for her to
get one arm under his thighs. She draped Pete's one arm around her neck
and put her other arm behind his back. Encouraging him to lean his
weight back, she got him into position and then, letting out a bit of a
grunt, stood straight up with Pete cradled in her arms. Slowly,
carefully, she carried him over to the bleachers. Still holding him in
her arms, she stepped up  and gently placed Pete down on the second row
of benches. As he supported himself with his arms, she helped him rest
his left ankle on the first row of seats.

By this time, Al had returned with the ice pack. He handed it to Pete,
then both he and Roger stood gaping at Traci.

"Holy crap, she's strong," Al said with amazement. "Pete, what are you,
about 180 -185?"

Pete nodded.

"Man, she carried you over here like it was nothing."

"No wonder you were hitting all those home runs," laughed Roger, "you're
quite the little powerhouse.

Traci grinned and raised her arm, flexing her biceps muscle. For the
first time, the three men noticed something. Unflexed, Traci's arms
looked relatively normal. They were toned, and a pretty good size for a
young teenage girl, but when she flexed, a big mound of muscle rose up,
seemingly out of nowhere. It was still the slender arm of a young girl,
but with a large, round mound sitting on top.

"Jesus!" exclaimed Al, "look at the size of that thing."

"Feel it," she encouraged him.

He placed his hand on it and his astonished expression became even more
pronounced.

"Try and squish it."

He dug into her muscle with his fingertips and got no result at all. The
harder he pressed, the harder she flexed. Finally, he squeezed as hard
as he could, but Traci simply smiled and looked down at the bulging arm
with pride.

"My god, it's as hard as..."

Al's voice trailed off.

"As a baseball?" she suggested playfully.

"Yeah, even harder, maybe."

"Anyone want to try arm wrestling me? I'm pretty good at it."

There was a picnic table sitting between the bleachers and home plate.
Traci sat down on one side and placed her elbow on the table. She looked
up at Al.

"Afraid?" she teased.

Al sat down opposite her and put his own arm up. Al was taller than
Pete, but thinner. Still, with his long limbs he should have had an
advantage over the shorter girl. But when Roger said "go", nothing
happened. Al grit his teeth, adjusted his grip and poured his strength
into it, but her arm stayed straight. Then, head down, eyes looking at
the table in front of her, Traci slowly and steadily forced his arm
back. The tendons in her forearm danced and her hard, round biceps
flexed impressively as she put Al's arm down. They tried the other one
with the same result. Roger tried her next. Even though he'd seen her
convincingly beat Al, in addition to easily picking up Pete and carrying
him, he still felt like he should hold back. As a result, she drove his
arm down instantly. The next time, he tried his best. Roger's technique
was a bit better than Al's and they battled for around thirty seconds
until Roger let out a grunt and felt his arm being forced steadily back.
He couldn't stop her from pinning him for the second straight time. She
offered a re-match, but he knew when he was outclassed and declined.

Traci's eyes shone with pride as she told them she could beat any boy at
her school in arm wrestling and talked about how she liked picking them
up and carrying them around, to show off her strength.

"They let you pick them up?" Roger wondered.

"Some of them do. But it doesn't matter. If I want to lift them, I can
make them let me do it, even it they don't want to. I know some good
armlocks and I just get them in one of those until they say "Uncle",
then they're afraid to say no. Other times I just grab boys around the
waist or thighs and pick them up. They can't to anything to stop
me...they're helpless."

"How did you get started doing this stuff?" Al asked her.

"I can't remember exactly. I've always been really strong for my age. I
started lifting my Dad up when I was around eight or nine. I could only
get him a few inches off the ground, and just for a second or two, but
my friend couldn't even lift him at all, and she was almost a year older
and bigger than me. My Dad was really fun to lift. He let me do it all
the time and he always told me I should be proud of my strength."

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Traci offered another
challenge.

"I'll bet if one of you stands at second, I can hit the ball into the
outfield, pick up the other one on my shoulders and run to first base
and back before you can get the ball and throw it into the infield.

"No way." Al said, scornfully.

"Come on then," Traci offered, "try me."

"You up for it?" Al said, looking at Roger.

"No pun intended?" Roger laughed.

Al gave him a quizzical look in return.

"Up...for it?" repeated Roger.

There were groans all around and Al loped out to second and waited for
Traci to get ready. She and Roger had a quick conference. She pointed to
a spot on the first base line, about four feet ahead of the plate. Then
she picked up the bat and ball.

"You ready?", she called out to Al.

"Anytime."

Traci tossed the ball high into the air, but misjudged and it landed
behind her. She picked the ball up, threw it up again and this time
cracked a nice hit deep into left field. Al turned to start after it,
and Traci dropped the bat, ducked down between Roger's legs and
incredible ease, got him into the piggyback position on her shoulders in
one easy motion. She immediately began running towards first, her arms
tightly gripping Roger's thighs. She was moving so fast, her rider felt
as though he was going to fall and gripped her broad shoulders tightly.
Fear showed in his voice as he pleaded with her to slow down, but Traci
paid him no heed. She touched her foot on the bag, slowed into a wide
circle and headed back towards home plate, with Roger hanging on now for
dear life. By the time Al caught up to the ball, picked it off the
ground and turned around to throw it, she was more than halfway back,
running full tilt. Al cursed had fired it as hard as he could, but the
ball was still in the air when Traci and Roger crossed home plate. She
slowed down and gradually came to a stop, then went down to one knee to
deposit her passenger safely back on the ground. As Al ran back from the
outfield, Pete gave her an enthusiastic round of applause. Even Al was
effusive in his praise for her astonishing display of strength, speed
and balance.

"That was amazing, Traci," he admitted, "I couldn't believe you were
almost all the way back by the time I got to the ball. You are..."

He stopped speaking in mid-sentence, noticing Roger's face.

"Hey buddy, are you ok? You're looking pretty pale there. Jesus...are
you shaking?"

It was true. Roger's hands here shaking. He looked like he'd just been
through a traumatic experience.

"I think I need another beer," he said, his face reddening quickly.

"I can't believe it," Al said to Pete, while Roger went to grab another
can of beer, "he actually looked scared."

"You shouldn't make fun of him. Most guys are scared when I run with
them. They think they're going to fall. It takes a little while to get
used to. He was pretty good. All he did was dig his fingers into my
shoulders. Some guys move around too much because they're trying to keep
their balance. They don't trust that I can hold them."

As the three guys sipped on their beers, Traci took turns hoisting Al
and Roger into the air in a variety of ways. She could hold them
effortlessly in a fireman's carry, cradle holds, over the shoulder
lifts. Lifting them straight up, her arms around their thighs was also
no problem for this strong, young teenager.

"I want to try something. I bet I can lift both of you at the same
time."

All three of them tried to talk her out of this, but Traci wasn't going
to be deterred. She held Roger in a cradle, then had Al get up on the
picnic table and mount her shoulders. Once more, she astounded the guys
by showing off her ability to walk around casually, while hoisting a
combined weight of more than three hundred and fifty pounds. Looking on,
Pete simply couldn't get over it. Traci did have an athletic build, but
to look at her, there was no way to know she possessed such great
strength. However, watching her holding his two pals aloft, he could see
her thighs bulging with muscular shape that was only hinted at when she
was standing normally. It was the same thing when she was up to bat. The
moment she got into the ready position, bat cocked behind her shoulder,
her legs immediately cut up into very defined and noticeable muscular
shapes. Where did it come from, he wondered?.

Finally, Traci put the other two guys down and showed off some gymnastic
ability with a few cartwheels, back flips etc. as well as demonstrating
great flexibility by doing the splits, raising one leg straight up
beside her head and similar moves. By the time she was done, all three
guys were left in awe and more than just a bit aroused. They started to
gather up their stuff and got ready to leave.

"How are you feeling, Pete?" Roger asked, "are you going to be ok to
drive?"

Pete tested out his knee by gently flexing it a bit. He could bend it
enough to get behind the wheel he thought.

"I guess I'll be all right," he answered, looking across the field to
where his car was parked, "all I have to do is get to the car."

He looked at Traci, expectantly. She was either unaware of Pete's
blatant ploy or didn't care. Either way, she was all over it.

"No problem, I'll carry you. I'll make sure you get home ok. I mean,
it's sort of my fault...even though you were blocking the baseline," she
admonished, looking at Pete sternly.

"Hey," I admit it. I challenged you and I lost. No hard feelings."

"Cool," she smiled, "I like guys who are good sports."

Traci leaned down, and cradled Pete in her arms, then stood up with his
full weight, grinning broadly.

"Put you arms around my neck," she told him.

Pete did so, albeit somewhat shyly.

"See, you're light. I could carry you around all day."

She began bouncing him a bit in her arms, causing Roger and to bust out
laughing until Pete protested that it was making his knee hurt.

Al picked up Pete and Traci's gloves and placed them on Pete's chest.
Then he and Roger grabbed the cooler and bats, loaded them up and took
off in their own cars. Meantime, Traci just sauntered off across the
park in the direction of Pete's car, chatting comfortable, showing no
signs of straining under his weight at all. By the time they reached the
car, Pete was starting to have a bit of trouble, but it wasn't due to
his knee hurting. For several minutes, his chest had been in contact
with Traci's own burgeoning young breasts. As he thought about this
strong young Amazon, and feeling her firm, round breasts up against him,
Pete started to shake with lust and desire. Seemingly unaware of what
was going on, she was concerned about his knee.

"It's ok," she said soothingly, we're just about there.

Once they reached the car, Traci slid Pete to his feet and supported him
while he fished his keys out of his pocket. As he did so, he took a
second to surreptitiously adjust his erection, hoping she hadn't
noticed. He gave the keys to Traci, who opened the door and helped him
slide behind the wheel. He adjusted himself so that his left leg was as
straight as possible, but it still felt awkward and his knee was hurting
worse now than it had been when he was standing. Traci saw him wince and
asked if he wanted to get out. Pete nodded and she slipped one arm
behind his back, the other under his thighs and lifted him back out of
the car. He leaned up against her, breathing hard.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said, "Maybe I should have got one
of the guys to drive me."

"I can drive," Traci announced, "I have my learner's license. It's legal
as long as a licensed driver's with me.

"How old are you?" Pete asked, a bit surprised no one had asked her up
until that point.

"Sixteen." she replied.

He stared at her, trying to decide what to do. Maybe he should just call
one of the guys. Al had a cell phone, and probably wasn't that far away
yet. As if reading his mind, Traci spoke up.

"You can trust me, Pete. I'm a careful driver. I don't even have my
permanent license yet, so I'm not going to do anything to wreck my
chances of getting it. It'll be fine. You can stretch out in the back
seat and direct me, ok?"

Pete didn't live that far away. There was plenty of daylight and the
streets were practically deserted anyway. He decided it should be all
right. Traci helped him into the back seat and then got behind the
wheel. She started the car up and pulled smoothly away from the curb. So
far, so good, Pete thought. She knew the general area he lived in, so
she didn't need much guidance until they got to within a few blocks.
Following his instructions, she navigated the few turns needed to get
off the main drag and onto his quiet residential street. She found the
house and pulled the car into Pete's driveway.

"See, I told you I'd be ok."

Pete nodded.

"Uh-huh, you did fine. You're a good driver."

Traci grinned and slid out from behind the wheel. She grabbed the ball
gloves and asked which key unlocked the front door. Pete showed her the
right one, and she unlocked the door, set the gloves down on the floor
by the coat rack and came back to help Pete out of the back seat. He'd
just assumed she would set him back down on his feet and help him hobble
into the house, but she surprised him by once more hoisting him into her
arms in a cradle hold and carrying him up to the door. Pete panicked
slightly, afraid one of his neighbours might notice him wrapped in the
arms of this teenage girl, but it was too late to say anything as Traci
climbed up the steps to the front door, turned sideways so Pete could
fit through and carried him into the house.

Traci stood in the centre of the room, looking around, still holding
Pete comfortably in her arms.

"Nice house," she complimented.

"Thanks. Uh, aren't you going to put me down?"

"Awww, so I have to?" she protested, pretending to pout, "I like holding
you like this."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Traci leaned her head down and
sniffed at his armpit

"Besides," she added, "you need a shower, stinky."

Pete looked into her beautiful, bright, smiling blue eyes, felt the
power of her firm grip and the sensual heat from her hard, young breasts
digging into his chest. In an instant the balance of power between them,
he the financially independent adult and she a 16-year-old high school
girl still at living at home, shifted dramatically. She was the dominant
one, who had him helpless in her firm embrace and weakened by her sexual
aura.

"So," she asked, her voice breaking into his thoughts, "where is it?"

He blinked, uncomprehendingly.

"The shower, goofy," she laughed.

"Upstairs."

Without another word, she mounted the stairs, Pete helpless in her arms.
Reaching the Pete's room, Traci set him down on the edge of the bed and
helped him off with his shoes and socks.

"I'll go turn on the water. Do you like it really hot?"

He nodded. His throat and lips felt dry and he was having trouble
swallowing.

"Me too," she said, coyly.

Traci bounced out of the bedroom and moments later, he heard the water
running in the shower. Then she was back. Pete still had his shirt and
shorts on. She helped him off with those, put his left arm over her
shoulders and let him lean on her. She placed little kisses all over his
neck and giggled at how his erection bounced in the air as they made
their way down the hallway towards the bathroom. It was beginning to
steam up. Traci opened the door, pulled back the curtain and helped Pete
get into the tub. She reached down and handed him the soap, then pulled
the curtain. Pete heard the door close.

Shaking, despite the heat from the shower, he wondered what was
happening. Had she simply been teasing him? What had he thought was
going to happen? Confused and overcome with lustful feelings towards
Traci, he began to masturbate. Suddenly, the bathroom door reopened. A
hand appeared behind the curtain, then a naked Traci stepped into the
shower with him. They simply locked eyes and stared at each other. He
started to say something, but she put her hand up to her lips and
shushed him. He watched her, with silent, carnal eyes. He wanted her,
badly, and he knew she understood that. As the hot, steamy water poured
over her tight, tanned young form, little rivulets formed on her
shoulders and ran down her succulent, ripe breasts. He wanted to reach
out and caress her, but he felt ashamed. She was too young. This was
wrong. She stood, water pouring off her, swaying her hips gently,
inviting him closer. Pete screwed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip.

"What's wrong, Pete?" It was the first time she'd used his name. "I know
what you're thinking. You want me. It happens with some boys at school
too, after I carry them for a while. But I don't want any of those boys.
I want someone who's experienced, who knows what to do. I want my first
time to be good, not some dumb high school boy's first try at it."

Pete's eyes were wide with shock. She let out a little chuckle, tilted
her head up and kissed him on the lips, long and deep. When she finally
came up for air, Pete was a trembling mess in her arms.

"Is your knee bothering you?" Traci whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"A bit," Pete said.

"I think you should let me hold you."

"Mmmm, you are holding me," Pete moaned.

"No, I mean hold you up...like this."

Traci reached underneath Pete's ass and carefully lifted him into her,
fitting his legs around her hips. His arms gripped her neck and they
continued kissing under the pelting water, the teenager casually taking
his weight while continuing to explore his mouth with her tongue. Traci
used her powerful one arm grip to manipulate them so they were both
soaked by the gushing, hot spray. Pete's hands explored her strong young
body while she played with his stiff penis. Their kissing grew more
intense, desperate and passionate, and Traci began adjusting him to get
his dick in position. Now her eyes were closed and she began making
little moaning noises, as the moment of penetration drew nearer. Finally
she screamed loudly, crushed Pete's body to her bosom and he was inside
of her. For what seemed to him like hours, they rocked gently back and
forth, savouring the sensation of their coupling, the steamy water and
the sensual passion they were sharing. Moans, cries, shout, the
occasional whispered words were exchanged between them as Peter built to
a climax.

"I'm going to cum...really soon,"

"Yes, yes!"

"You...try to...cum too...at the same time."

"How?"

"I don't know. Just...try to feel it."

Both of Traci's were on cupping his butt cheeks, supporting him and
guiding his pelvis back and forth, as fucked each other. Traci felt
Pete's body tighten. His arms held her tightly around the neck and she
could feel his heels against the backs of her thighs as he fused himself
to her. They were now standing absolutely still. As she felt the hot cum
explode into her, Traci experienced her first orgasm. She pressed Pete's
chest hard against her breasts, repeating "oh god, oh god" over and
over.

For a minute or two, they remained practically motionless, save for Pete
nuzzling her hair and Traci pressing little kisses onto his chest. Then
she set him back on his feet, picked up the soap and washed the sticky
juices from both their bodies. Pete turned off the water and they got
out. They was more kissing and cuddling, then they toweled themselves
off.

"How does your knee feel?"

"Fine. I think you cured it."

She laughed.

"No, it really does feel better. I'm going to take a couple of
pain-killers, though. Can you pass me that bottle there?"

Pete took a swallow of water, downing the pills.

"Come on," aid Traci, let's get you onto the bed

"I think I can walk on it now."

Pete gingerly put some weight on his leg, testing the knee when Traci
bent down, seized his wrist and pulled it over her shoulder and lifted
him across her back in a fireman's carry.

"What are you doing?"

"Just because you CAN walk doesn't mean I'm going to let you. In case
you haven't figured it out by now, I like carrying guys."

She opened the bathroom door and carried Pete back to his bedroom. She
laid him down on the bed and turned to go downstairs to fetch the ice
pack out of the freezer.

"Wait!" Pete called out, "come here for a sec."

She did, and he pulled her down onto the bed beside him. She giggled and
protested, but didn't get back up. For another few minutes, they lay
naked, cuddling and kissing. Then Traci got up, still nude and ran
downstairs. Returning with the ice pack, she wrapped it in a dry towel,
and fitted it around Pete's knee. She propped his leg up on a pillow and
pulled the blankets up over him.

"I'm really hungry. I'm going to get dressed, then we should think about
food.

"There's some steak in the fridge, and some fresh corn on the cob.

"Mmmm, sounds good. I'll be right back," she said, kissing him on the
forehead.

Traci grabbed her clothes and returned to the bathroom. She felt
exhilarated in a way she hadn't thought possible. Every pore on her body
tingled. She felt giddy, energetic and part of her wanted to just jump
up and down with child-like glee. And yet, she also felt another
sensation, the soft, delicate afterglow of the sexually-satisfied woman.
Alone with her thoughts, Traci took her time. When she returned to
Pete's room, he as fast asleep. He looked peaceful and contented.

Traci went back downstairs and began investigating Pete's kitchen. She
put a couple of potatos in the oven to bake, found a big pot and began
boiling water for the corn and took the steak out the fridge. Then she
poured herself a glass of juice and explored Pete's house. It was simply
decorated, but neat and tidy. The yard was small, but fenced and had a
couple of nice fruit trees, one apple and one plum. The plums were ripe
and dropping from the tree. Traci gathered a few and took them inside to
wash them. She took a couple with her and sat out in a lawn chair. The
plums were sweet and full of juice. As she ate them,  Traci managed to
drip a fair bit of it on herself, and it ran down her chest onto her
top. She went back into the kitchen and took her shirt off, washed out
the plum juice. She noticed some had gotten on her bra too, so she took
that off and rinsed it out as well. As she went to hang the garments on
the coat rack by the front door, Traci caught sight of herself in the
hallway mirror. Not normally given to such pure vanity, this time she
couldn't help but stop and stare. She noticed her breasts were still
tingling with a milder version of the sensation she'd felt when she had
burst into orgasm. Experimentally, she pinched and rubbed her nipples.
The sensation heightened. She slid out of her shorts, fully naked once
more. She flexed her legs and felt tremendous pleasure at the sight of
their dancing muscles and tendons. Cocking her arms, she made the two
hard, round balls that were her biceps muscles appear. She was fixated
at the sight of her own image. She felt extraordinary...like a goddess.
Standing in front of the mirror, in perhaps the purest moment of
unabashed vanity she would ever experience, Traci masturbated herself
into another powerful orgasm.

A few minutes later, now wearing only one of Pete's work shirts,
unbuttoned but tied in a loose knot around her waist, she heard a noise
behind her as she checked on the steaks grilling in the oven. Pete stood
there, a towel wrapped around him, mouth open, an unreadable expression
in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Making us dinner, silly. You're still hungry, right? I'm famished.
Everything else is ready, I'm just cooking the steak now. How do you
like yours done? It's such a gorgeous evening, we should eat outside. I
like your yard, it's nice and private. I had some plums from the tree.
They were really juicy. That's why I'm wearing your shirt. The juice got
all over..."

She was talking a mile a minute, one thought into the next, without a
pause, standing there naked save for his oversize blue shirt and a pair
of flowery-patterned, worse-for-the-ear oven mitts. It was too much and
Pete burst out laughing. Traci looked perturbed, then confused, then she
too began to laugh.

"Oh, am I talking too fast? I do that when I get excited. My dad used to
laugh at that too."

The mention of Traci's father reminded Pete of Traci's age and he began
to feel awkward again.

"That's ok," Pete smiled.

Traci set the patio table and carried their plates of food out to the
backyard. She helped Pete out of the house and made sure he was
comfortable before sitting down herself. The sun was low in the sky now
and a bit of breeze came up. They were both too starved to linger over
the food anyway, so they ate quickly and went back inside the house.
Traci insisted they do the dishes, because she didn't want Pete hobbling
around on his sore knee any more than necessary. After that chore was
done, Traci wanted to go back upstairs. Pete wasn't immediately
enthusiastic, but he figured that what's already done can't be undone,
so he allowed Traci to carry him back upstairs, this time in an
over-the-shoulder hold. They reached the bedroom again and Traci
manouvered him around behind her, so he was across her back once more.
She started feeling around with her hands, looking for the places she
wanted to put them. Then, with a bit of a grunt, Traci lifted him up and
over her head. She held him up for a few seconds before setting him down
gently on the bed.

"Holy Christ. I can't believe how strong you are."

Traci beamed with delight.

By now, Pete had forgotten all about those qualms he was having and
again felt himself being overcome with lust. She joined him on the bed
and they made love again, this time slowly and tenderly. This time, they
both nodded off when their coupling was complete.

It was dark when Pete woke up and was disoriented. What time was it? The
bedside clock said 9:55. Normally, he'd be heading for bed in about an
hour, but he didn't feel at all tired. He did, for some reason he was
unable to put his finger on right away, feel anxious. Suddenly, he
realized he was alone.

"Traci?" he called out.

There was no answer. He shouted out to her again, but heard nothing.
Getting out of bed and switching on the light, the first thing he
noticed was his blue work shirt lying across the foot of the bed. Then
he saw the note pinned to it.

"Dear Pete...dear, dear Pete. I had such a good time with you today.
Really, it was so much more, I don't even know how to describe it. It
felt things for the very first time. I know it sounds really corny, but
today, I feel like a woman. A powerful woman. I love the way I feel now,
like I can do anything. I mean, I was always taught to believe that, but
now I think I really do. I'm glad my first time was with you. You are a
wonderful man. You remind me a lot of my father and I know I'm never
going to forget you, or this day we shared. Thank you so much.

Love, Traci





























Batter Up!
by brooksie




"Nothing wrong with this day!" Al called out, as he tossed the ball to
his friend Pete.

"You got that right," came the reply.

It was one of those prime, late summer days, warm and sunny, but with a
bit of hazy cloud cover and a light breeze that made the temperature
perfectly comfortable. While the guys  continued throwing the ball back
and forth, a third man, Roger, pulled up and parked his car against the
curb, just behind the backstop. He got out, opened the trunk and pulled
out a glove, a couple of bats and a cooler. Grinning, he made his way
over to the diamond.

"Ho, ho, looks like we were wrong Al," Pete said, nodding towards Roger,
"something was missing, after all."

"You talking about me, or the beer?" Roger laughed.

"Brewski's, of course," Pete snorted, "you're expendable, but the beer
is a must-have."

"I don't know," Al said, as the Roger set the cooler down on the first
row of bleachers and tossed the guys a cold one, "we might not have a
lot of players today. I didn't get hold to too many people. Left a few
messages, but no one called back to confirm.

"Yep," said Roger, "one of the last nice weekends of the summer. I doubt
we'll get enough for teams.

"Probably not," Pete agreed. "Oh well, we'll just play scrub."

"Even that's not much fun with only three," Al remarked pessimistically.

"Well some others are bound to show up," Roger confidently predicted.
"So, who's up for shagging a few fly balls?"

He picked up the bat and ball, trotting over to home plate, while Pete
and Al, gloves and beers in hand, headed for the outfield. They spend
about a half-hour taking turns hitting balls into the outfield for the
other two to catch, waiting to see if anyone else was going to show.
After a while, they took a break. Gathering around the cooler for a
second beer, they tried to figure out what to do while waiting to see if
any more friends were going to show for this hastily-organized pickup
game of softball.

After some discussion, they decided that by using only half the
diamond...as far as second base, and not bothering to have anyone pitch,
they could improvise some kind of game. Al took first turn at bat. He
tossed the ball up in the air and then belted it into the outfield. Pete
ran it down and fired it to Roger at second base, but not in time. Al
got there first, touched his foot on the bag and trotted back to home
plate for his next hit. Carrying on in this way, they managed to kill
some more time. A few of the hits were caught as fly balls and there
were a couple of throw-outs, but most of the time it was pretty easy to
find a hole that would allow the batter to make it to second rather
easily, especially since the batter was merely tossing the ball up in
the air and then whacking it.

Standing around the infield, they were discussing ways of making the
contest somehow more competitive, when Pete noticed three teenage girls
sitting high up in the bleachers. He thought nothing of it at first.
They were probably just neighbourhood kids who used the ball field as a
hangout. Meanwhile, it was decided to use only half the outfield as fair
territory, so it wouldn't be as easy to place the ball opposite to
wherever the fielder was standing. That worked a bit better but, by the
time they broke for another beer, they were pretty much ready to call it
a day, at least as far as the ball-playing went.

While Al and Roger discussed other ideas for how they might spend the
rest of the afternoon, Pete glanced back up at the  grandstand and
inadvertently locked eyes with one of the three girls who were sitting
up there. He quickly took in three pieces of information: one, her
friends were busily chatting away but she was staring down at Pete and
his pals, two, she was a bit bigger and more athletic-looking than the
other two girls and three, she had a baseball glove with her, which Pete
had not noticed earlier.

"Hey," he said, nudging Al, "I think we might have some recruits,"
nodding up towards the top row of bleachers.

Al looked in that direction.

"Jeez, Pete! They're just kids. I mean, I know we're not out for a
serious game or anything, but come on."

Pete paid him no attention.

"Hey!" he yelled up at the girl, "you feel like playing some ball?"

"Ok," she answered.

"What about your friends?"

The girl turned to her two companions and they had a quick discussion.
It was petty obvious from their body language the other two not only did
not want to play, but were about to take off. It seemed like they trying
to get her to come with them, but the girl grabbed her glove and came
down onto the field instead.

She was a little bit muscular, just enough to give her frame an athletic
appearance and fairly tall, but otherwise looked to be a normal girl of
her age, which he guessed to be fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. She
had well-developed, strong-looking legs but mainly just seemed like a
healthy teen girl. She wore a pair of loose-fitting gym shorts, light
blue with a big, white drawstring on the outside, a sleeveless top with
thick, horizontal stripes and canvas running shoes with no socks. A
greenish ball cap on top of her curly, shoulder length, reddish-blonde
hair. She had bright blue eyes and a face full of freckles. Pete
estimated her height and to be around 5'6 -5'7, weight maybe 120 - 125
lbs.

"My name's Pete, what's yours?"

"Traci," she replied, sticking out her hand.

Pete shook it.

"This is Al," indicating his friend beside him, "and this is Roger,"
Pete said, pointing to the older of the three guys.

Traci shook the hands of the other two guys as well.

"I didn't think you were ever going to get around to asking me to play,
you bad boy," she told Pete, with a playfully scolding tone in her
voice.

Pete blushed a bit at being chided like that by this brash young girl in
front of his buddies, but didn't say anything.

"Well, we thought a few more of the regular crew were going to show up,"
Roger told her.

"Do you think they might still come?"

"I doubt it," Roger replied, shaking his head.

"Guess everyone decided to get out of town for the weekend," commented
Al.

"Too bad," Traci said, "I guess you're lucky I'm here, huh?"

Pete and Al exchanged glances. The unspoken message that she seemed
pretty high on herself passed between them. Meanwhile Roger just
chuckled. Looking at her well-used glove, he asked her if she'd played a
lot of ball.

"Uh-huh. I play on a team and I used to play with my Dad and his friends
a lot."

"What's the matter, you get too good for them?" Al asked, his voice a
tad cutting.

She appeared not to notice, and for the first time her voice lost some
of the bright, confident tone it had had up to that point.

"No, my parents split up so, you know. I don't see my Dad that much
anymore."

She sounded sad and Al was instantly ashamed for his sarcastic question.
He went to pull another beer from the cooler, but stopped and looked at
the other two guys before opening it. With his eyes, he indicated Traci.
The young girl saw his look and caught on quickly.

"I don't care if you're drinking beer. My dad and his buddies always
drank beer when they played. It's no big deal."

Al shrugged and pulled out three cans.

"Have you got anything else in here, pop or something?" he asked Roger,
who shook his head in reply.

"That's ok," said Traci. "I've got water. I'm fine."

"Come on, let's get going here," urged Pete.

He was curious to see if this cocky young girl had any skills or not.
With four players now, it was decided one would double as
pitcher/infielder, with two outfielders and a batter. They offered to
let Traci go to bat first. She jogged over to home plate, where Roger
had left the heavier of the two bats he'd brought. Expecting that a few
women might turn out, he had brought a lighter bat as well, which was
leaning against the backstop.

Traci had picked up the bat that was lying there, so Roger suggested she
grab the other one behind her. Still holding the heavier bat, she looked
back, spotted the other one and picked it up too. Holding both out at
arm's length, she shook them slightly, testing their weight. To the
surprise of all three of the men, she leaned the lighter bat back up
against the mesh of the backstop and returned to the plate with the same
bat they'd been using.

"Nah," she called out, "too wimpy. I like a real bat."

Roger shrugged. He turned around to call out to the other guys.

"Are we still just using first and second?"

"I guess," Pete replied.

"Ok Traci, you have to make it to second to stay at bat, all right?"

"Sure," she laughed, "no problem."

The other two couldn't hear her say that, but Roger smiled again at her
cockiness. Cute kid, he thought. Since no balls or strikes going to be
called, so he just lobbed an easy one, but misjudged and it sailed over
her head. She picked it up and fired it back, overhand. The ball sunk
into Roger's glove with a loud "thwack" and he winced slightly at the
sting in his palm. This time he concentrated on the pitch. It still
wasn't a great one, a bit high and outside, but Traci stepped into it
and belted it down the first base line, catching Al off guard. He ran
after it, but by the time he retrieved the ball and turned to throw it,
Traci had already touched second base and was trotting back to the
plate. The next two pitches were about as accurately thrown as the last
but Traci still managed to hit them deep into the outfield, past Pete
and Al. On the third one, Al got to it in time to at least attempt a
throw out, but Traci easily made it to second well ahead of the ball.
Three hits, three returns to bat, and she still hadn't really had a
decent pitch to swing at.

"Come on, let's see one that's actually over the plate she called out to
Roger. Embarrassed, he took his time and lobbed in a beauty. Traci swung
with a smooth, easy motion, the tip of the bat starting from well behind
her shoulder. She made contact with the ball, followed through on her
swing and smacked it hard. All four of them watched it arc high and sail
over the fence behind center field.

"Wow!" Roger gasped, "nice hit!"

"Just needed a half-decent pitch," she said, smiling.

Meanwhile, Pete and Al were looking at each other in shock. They played
in this park all the time, and had rarely seen anyone hit a ball over
that part of the fence, the furthest possible point from home plate.
Pete retrieved the ball, threw it back to Roger, then called for a quick
"refreshment break". While Roger and Traci chatted at the pitcher's
mound, he and Al stood in right field, sipping their beer.

"Jesus, this kid can hit," Pete said.

"I know, she's making it look easy too."

"You think we ought to make it third instead of second?"

"If we don't, we're liable to be out here all afternoon," Al replied,
and they both laughed. They set the beer cans back down and Pete threw
the ball in.

"Hey", he called out, "how about the batter has to get to third base to
stay up?"

Instead of answering right away Traci and Roger became involved in a
discussion. From where they were standing Al and Pete couldn't hear what
was being said. Curious, they ran into the infield.

"What's going on?" Pete asked, "You don't want to try using third?"

"Forget third," said Traci, "why don't we just play regular?"

"But that means you have to hit a home run every time," protested Al.

"That's what I told her," said Roger.

"Hey, I'm not too worried.

Pete glanced over at Traci and, once more, locked eyes with her. Smiling
confidently, she met his gaze and held it. It was as if she was making a
challenge.

"Look," he said, "just because you got one lucky hit..."

"Hey," Traci interrupted, "that wasn't a lucky hit. If you don't believe
me, why don't you try pitching for a while? Besides," she added
teasingly, "this might be the only way you get a chance a bat."

Pete shot her a look but didn't say anything. Instead he just held out
his glove towards Roger, who put the ball into it and went to join Al in
the outfield. While part of him found Traci's cocky attitude kind of
funny, another part wanted to take her down a peg or two. Rather than
lob his pitches in as Roger had, Pete pitched as if it were a
competitive game. The first one was too far outside the plate for her to
reach so she let it go. The ball bounced off the backstop and rolled
almost all the way back to home plate. Traci picked it up and whipped it
back, throwing the ball even harder than she had to Roger earlier. Al
could hear the slapping sound it made, even from where he was standing.
Ouch, that had to smart, he thought. Pete's hand was burning slightly
and he found himself thinking he was glad that hadn't been a fastball.
Looking towards the plate, he saw Traci grinning back at him. The
expression on her face seemed to say "get it over the plate, or else."
This time he slowed the pitch down a bit and focused. It was right in
the pocket and Traci, with her smooth, easy swing responded by sending
the pitch over the right field fence. He got a bit of a ribbing from Al,
as Roger went to fetch the ball. This time he tried a harder pitch and
got that one over the plate as well. Unfortunately, the result was
almost the same. Two pitches, two home run shots out of the park.

Traci occupied herself by taking a drink of water while Al got the ball
this time. Pete stood at the pitcher's mound, fuming at this young girl
who seemed to be making a fool out of him. He caught the throw-in from
Al and turned around to see Traci, a taunting smile on her face,
sticking her cute little butt out at him. Pissed, he was determined not
to let her get another home run. He deliberately threw to the inside of
the plate. It was low, and in a game, would have been called a "ball",
but Traci took a slicing, golf-like cut at it and lined it out to left
field. She immediately took off for first, while Roger loped after the
ball. Pete was yelling for him to hurry up as we waited impatiently at
home plate for the relay throw from Pete in the infield. By the time
Roger caught up to the ball rolling on the ground, picked it up and
threw it to Al, Traci was rounding third and barreling towards home.
Pete was waiting right on the baseline, blocking the plate, but if he
thought that would intimidate her, he was wrong. She and the ball
reached him at almost the same time. Pete caught the ball first and
swiveled just in time to collide head on with Traci sliding into home.
He'd positioned himself in a way that made it impossible for her to
avoid him, but when they did meet, it was her momentum that prevailed
over Pete's larger bulk. His legs went out from under him and the ball
flew out of his glove. She dusted herself off as she stood up, saw the
ball lying a few feet away from home plate and raised her arms, about to
celebrate her "inside-the-park" homer, when she heard Pete groan. She
looked down to see him on his back, clutching his left knee.

"Oh my god, are you all right?" she cried out, squatting down beside
him.

Pete couldn't answer. He was clearly in a lot of pain and both Pete and
Roger were now there, bending over him as well. They got him to lie flat
on his back and Roger, who had first aid training, tried to find out how
bad the injury was. Already, he could see the knee beginning to swell
and knew that, at the very least, Pete was likely going to be off his
feet for a few days.

"We'd better get some ice on that, pronto," he said. "Al, there's a
towel in my car. Grab it and wrap some ice from the cooler in it. While
Al went to improvise an ice-pack, Roger got Pete sitting up.

"Let's get you over to the bleachers and get some ice on that thing.
Keep your weight off it and lean on me, ok? Think you can stand up?"

Roger tried to help him up, but it was awkward and hard to do without
putting any weight at all on the leg. They tried twice, but both times
Pete cried out in agony as he tried to stand, and collapsed back onto
his butt.

"Here, I can get him," Traci volunteered and got down on her knees
beside him. Pete was able to bend the knee slightly, enough for her to
get one arm under his thighs. She draped Pete's one arm around her neck
and put her other arm behind his back. Encouraging him to lean his
weight back, she got him into position and then, letting out a bit of a
grunt, stood straight up with Pete cradled in her arms. Slowly,
carefully, she carried him over to the bleachers. Still holding him in
her arms, she stepped up  and gently placed Pete down on the second row
of benches. As he supported himself with his arms, she helped him rest
his left ankle on the first row of seats.

By this time, Al had returned with the ice-pack. He handed it to Pete,
then both he and Roger stood gaping at Traci.

"Holy crap, she's strong," Al said with amazement. "Pete, what are you,
about 180 -185?"

Pete nodded.

"Man, she carried you over here like it was nothing."

"No wonder you were hitting all those home runs," laughed Roger, "you're
quite the little powerhouse.

Traci grinned and raised her arm, flexing her biceps muscle. For the
first time, the three men noticed something. Unflexed, Traci's arms
looked relatively normal. They were toned, and a pretty good size for a
young teenage girl, but when she flexed, a big mound of muscle rose up,
seemingly out of nowhere. It was still the slender arm of a young girl,
but with a large, round mound sitting on top.

"Jesus!" exclaimed Al, "look at the size of that thing."

"Feel it," she encouraged him.

He placed his hand on it and his astonished expression became even more
pronounced.

"Try and squish it."

He dug into her muscle with his fingertips and got no result at all. The
harder he pressed, the harder she flexed. Finally, he squeezed as hard
as he could, but Traci simply smiled and looked down at the bulging arm
with pride.

"My god, it's as hard as..."

Al's voice trailed off.

"As a baseball?" she suggested playfully.

"Yeah, even harder, maybe."

"Anyone want to try arm wrestling me? I'm pretty good at it."

There was a picnic table sitting between the bleachers and home plate.
Traci sat down on one side and placed her elbow on the table. She looked
up at Al.

"Afraid?" she teased.

Al sat down opposite her and put his own arm up. Al was taller than
Pete, but thinner. Still, with his long limbs he should have had an
advantage over the shorter girl. But when Roger said "go", nothing
happened. Al grit his teeth, adjusted his grip and poured his strength
into it, but her arm stayed straight. Then, head down, eyes looking at
the table in front of her, Traci slowly and steadily forced his arm
back. The tendons in her forearm danced and her hard, round biceps
flexed impressively as she put Al's arm down. They tried the other one
with the same result. Roger tried her next. Even though he'd seen her
convincingly beat Al, in addition to easily picking up Pete and carrying
him, he still felt like he should hold back. As a result, she drove his
arm down instantly. The next time, he tried his best. Roger's technique
was a bit better than Al's and they battled for around thirty seconds
until Roger let out a grunt and felt his arm being forced steadily back.
He couldn't stop her from pinning him for the second straight time. She
offered a re-match, but he knew when he was outclassed and declined.

Traci's eyes shone with pride as she told them she could beat any boy at
her school in arm wrestling and talked about how she liked picking them
up and carrying them around, to show off her strength.

"They let you pick them up?" Roger wondered.

"Some of them do. But it doesn't matter. If I want to lift them, I can
make them let me do it, even it they don't want to. I know some good
armlocks and I just get them in one of those until they say "Uncle",
then they're afraid to say no. Other times I just grab boys around the
waist or thighs and pick them up. They can't to anything to stop
me...they're helpless."

"How did you get started doing this stuff?" Al asked her.

"I can't remember exactly. I've always been really strong for my age. I
started lifting my Dad up when I was around eight or nine. I could only
get him a few inches off the ground, and just for a second or two, but
my friend couldn't even lift him at all, and she was almost a year older
and bigger than me. My Dad was really fun to lift. He let me do it all
the time and he always told me I should be proud of my strength."

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Traci offered another
challenge.

"I'll bet if one of you stands at second, I can hit the ball into the
outfield, pick up the other one on my shoulders and run to first base
and back before you can get the ball and throw it into the infield.

"No way." Al said, scornfully.

"Come on then," Traci offered, "try me."

"You up for it?" Al said, looking at Roger.

"No pun intended?" Roger laughed.

Al gave him a quizzical look in return.

"Up...for it?" repeated Roger.

There were groans all around and Al loped out to second and waited for
Traci to get ready. She and Roger had a quick conference. She pointed to
a spot on the first base line, about four feet ahead of the plate. Then
she picked up the bat and ball.

"You ready?", she called out to Al.

"Anytime."

Traci tossed the ball high into the air, but misjudged and it landed
behind her. She picked the ball up, threw it up again and this time
cracked a nice hit deep into left field. Al turned to start after it,
and Traci dropped the bat, ducked down between Roger's legs and
incredible ease, got him into the piggyback position on her shoulders in
one easy motion. She immediately began running towards first, her arms
tightly gripping Roger's thighs. She was moving so fast, her rider felt
as though he was going to fall and gripped her broad shoulders tightly.
Fear showed in his voice as he pleaded with her to slow down, but Traci
paid him no heed. She touched her foot on the bag, slowed into a wide
circle and headed back towards home plate, with Roger hanging on now for
dear life. By the time Al caught up to the ball, picked it off the
ground and turned around to throw it, she was more than halfway back,
running full tilt. Al cursed had fired it as hard as he could, but the
ball was still in the air when Traci and Roger crossed home plate. She
slowed down and gradually came to a stop, then went down to one knee to
deposit her passenger safely back on the ground. As Al ran back from the
outfield, Pete gave her an enthusiastic round of applause. Even Al was
effusive in his praise for her astonishing display of strength, speed
and balance.

"That was amazing, Traci," he admitted, "I couldn't believe you were
almost all the way back by the time I got to the ball. You are..."

He stopped speaking in mid-sentence, noticing Roger's face.

"Hey buddy, are you ok? You're looking pretty pale there. Jesus...are
you shaking?"

It was true. Roger's hands here shaking. He looked like he'd just been
through a traumatic experience.

"I think I need another beer," he said, his face reddening quickly.

"I can't believe it," Al said to Pete, while Roger went to grab another
can of beer, "he actually looked scared."

"You shouldn't make fun of him. Most guys are scared when I run with
them. They think they're going to fall. It takes a little while to get
used to. He was pretty good. All he did was dig his fingers into my
shoulders. Some guys move around too much because they're trying to keep
their balance. They don't trust that I can hold them."

As the three guys sipped on their beers, Traci took turns hoisting Al
and Roger into the air in a variety of ways. She could hold them
effortlessly in a fireman's carry, cradle holds, over the shoulder
lifts. Lifting them straight up, her arms around their thighs was also
no problem for this strong, young teenager.

"I want to try something. I bet I can lift both of you at the same
time."

All three of them tried to talk her out of this, but Traci wasn't going
to be deterred. She held Roger in a cradle, then had Al get up on the
picnic table and mount her shoulders. Once more, she astounded the guys
by showing off her ability to walk around casually, while hoisting a
combined weight of more than three hundred and fifty pounds. Looking on,
Pete simply couldn't get over it. Traci did have an athletic build, but
to look at her, there was no way to know she possessed such great
strength. However, watching her holding his two pals aloft, he could see
her thighs bulging with muscular shape that was only hinted at when she
was standing normally. It was the same thing when she was up to bat. The
moment she got into the ready position, bat cocked behind her shoulder,
her legs immediately cut up into very defined and noticeable muscular
shapes. Where did it come from, he wondered?.

Finally, Traci put the other two guys down and showed off some gymnastic
ability with a few cartwheels, back flips etc. as well as demonstrating
great flexibility by doing the splits, raising one leg straight up
beside her head and similar moves. By the time she was done, all three
guys were left in awe and more than just a bit aroused. They started to
gather up their stuff and got ready to leave.

"How are you feeling, Pete?" Roger asked, "are you going to be ok to
drive?"

Pete tested out his knee by gently flexing it a bit. He could bend it
enough to get behind the wheel he thought.

"I guess I'll be all right," he answered, looking across the field to
where his car was parked, "all I have to do is get to the car."

He looked at Traci, expectantly. She was either unaware of Pete's
blatant ploy or didn't care. Either way, she was all over it.

"No problem, I'll carry you. I'll make sure you get home ok. I mean,
it's sort of my fault...even though you were blocking the baseline," she
admonished, looking at Pete sternly.

"Hey," I admit it. I challenged you and I lost. No hard feelings."

"Cool," she smiled, "I like guys who are good sports."

Traci leaned down, and cradled Pete in her arms, then stood up with his
full weight, grinning broadly.

"Put you arms around my neck," she told him.

Pete did so, albeit somewhat shyly.

"See, you're light. I could carry you around all day."

She began bouncing him a bit in her arms, causing Roger and to bust out
laughing until Pete protested that it was making his knee hurt.

Al picked up Pete and Traci's gloves and placed them on Pete's chest.
Then he and Roger grabbed the cooler and bats, loaded them up and took
off in their own cars. Meantime, Traci just sauntered off across the
park in the direction of Pete's car, chatting comfortable, showing no
signs of straining under his weight at all. By the time they reached the
car, Pete was starting to have a bit of trouble, but it wasn't due to
his knee hurting. For several minutes, his chest had been in contact
with Traci's own burgeoning young breasts. As he thought about this
strong young Amazon, and feeling her firm, round breasts up against him,
Pete started to shake with lust and desire. Seemingly unaware of what
was going on, she was concerned about his knee.

"It's ok," she said soothingly, we're just about there.

Once they reached the car, Traci slid Pete to his feet and supported him
while he fished his keys out of his pocket. As he did so, he took a
second to surreptitiously adjust his erection, hoping she hadn't
noticed. He gave the keys to Traci, who opened the door and helped him
slide behind the wheel. He adjusted himself so that his left leg was as
straight as possible, but it still felt awkward and his knee was hurting
worse now than it had been when he was standing. Traci saw him wince and
asked if he wanted to get out. Pete nodded and she slipped one arm
behind his back, the other under his thighs and lifted him back out of
the car. He leaned up against her, breathing hard.

"I don't know if I can do this," he said, "Maybe I should have got one
of the guys to drive me."

"I can drive," Traci announced, "I have my learner's license. It's legal
as long as a licensed driver's with me.

"How old are you?" Pete asked, a bit surprised no one had asked her up
until that point.

"Sixteen." she replied.

He stared at her, trying to decide what to do. Maybe he should just call
one of the guys. Al had a cell phone, and probably wasn't that far away
yet. As if reading his mind, Traci spoke up.

"You can trust me, Pete. I'm a careful driver. I don't even have my
permanent license yet, so I'm not going to do anything to wreck my
chances of getting it. It'll be fine. You can stretch out in the back
seat and direct me, ok?"

Pete didn't live that far away. There was plenty of daylight and the
streets were practically deserted anyway. He decided it should be all
right. Traci helped him into the back seat and then got behind the
wheel. She started the car up and pulled smoothly away from the curb. So
far, so good, Pete thought. She knew the general area he lived in, so
she didn't need much guidance until they got to within a few blocks.
Following his instructions, she navigated the few turns needed to get
off the main drag and onto his quiet residential street. She found the
house and pulled the car into Pete's driveway.

"See, I told you I'd be ok."

Pete nodded.

"Uh-huh, you did fine. You're a good driver."

Traci grinned and slid out from behind the wheel. She grabbed the ball
gloves and asked which key unlocked the front door. Pete showed her the
right one, and she unlocked the door, set the gloves down on the floor
by the coat rack and came back to help Pete out of the back seat. He'd
just assumed she would set him back down on his feet and help him hobble
into the house, but she surprised him by once more hoisting him into her
arms in a cradle hold and carrying him up to the door. Pete panicked
slightly, afraid one of his neighbours might notice him wrapped in the
arms of this teenage girl, but it was too late to say anything as Traci
climbed up the steps to the front door, turned sideways so Pete could
fit through and carried him into the house.

Traci stood in the centre of the room, looking around, still holding
Pete comfortably in her arms.

"Nice house," she complimented.

"Thanks. Uh, aren't you going to put me down?"

"Awww, so I have to?" she protested, pretending to pout, "I like holding
you like this."

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Traci leaned her head down and
sniffed at his armpit

"Besides," she added, "you need a shower, stinky."

Pete looked into her beautiful, bright, smiling blue eyes, felt the
power of her firm grip and the sensual heat from her hard, young breasts
digging into his chest. In an instant the balance of power between them,
he the financially independent adult and she a 16-year-old high school
girl still at living at home, shifted dramatically. She was the dominant
one, who had him helpless in her firm embrace and weakened by her sexual
aura.

"So," she asked, her voice breaking into his thoughts, "where is it?"

He blinked, uncomprehendingly.

"The shower, goofy," she laughed.

"Upstairs."

Without another word, she mounted the stairs, Pete helpless in her arms.
Reaching the Pete's room, Traci set him down on the edge of the bed and
helped him off with his shoes and socks.

"I'll go turn on the water. Do you like it really hot?"

He nodded. His throat and lips felt dry and he was having trouble
swallowing.

"Me too," she said, coyly.

Traci bounced out of the bedroom and moments later, he heard the water
running in the shower. Then she was back. Pete still had his shirt and
shorts on. She helped him off with those, put his left arm over her
shoulders and let him lean on her. She placed little kisses all over his
neck and giggled at how his erection bounced in the air as they made
their way down the hallway towards the bathroom. It was beginning to
steam up. Traci opened the door, pulled back the curtain and helped Pete
get into the tub. She reached down and handed him the soap, then pulled
the curtain. Pete heard the door close.

Shaking, despite the heat from the shower, he wondered what was
happening. Had she simply been teasing him? What had he thought was
going to happen? Confused and overcome with lustful feelings towards
Traci, he began to masturbate. Suddenly, the bathroom door reopened. A
hand appeared behind the curtain, then a naked Traci stepped into the
shower with him. They simply locked eyes and stared at each other. He
started to say something, but she put her hand up to her lips and
shushed him. He watched her, with silent, carnal eyes. He wanted her,
badly, and he knew she understood that. As the hot, steamy water poured
over her tight, tanned young form, little rivulets formed on her
shoulders and ran down her succulent, ripe breasts. He wanted to reach
out and caress her, but he felt ashamed. She was too young. This was
wrong. She stood, water pouring off her, swaying her hips gently,
inviting him closer. Pete screwed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip.

"What's wrong, Pete?" It was the first time she'd used his name. "I know
what you're thinking. You want me. It happens with some boys at school
too, after I carry them for a while. But I don't want any of those boys.
I want someone who's experienced, who knows what to do. I want my first
time to be good, not some dumb high school boy's first try at it."

Pete's eyes were wide with shock. She let out a little chuckle, tilted
her head up and kissed him on the lips, long and deep. When she finally
came up for air, Pete was a trembling mess in her arms.

"Is your knee bothering you?" Traci whispered, nuzzling his neck.

"A bit," Pete said.

"I think you should let me hold you."

"Mmmm, you are holding me," Pete moaned.

"No, I mean hold you up...like this."

Traci reached underneath Pete's ass and carefully lifted him into her,
fitting his legs around her hips. His arms gripped her neck and they
continued kissing under the pelting water, the teenager casually taking
his weight while continuing to explore his mouth with her tongue. Traci
used her powerful one arm grip to manipulate them so they were both
soaked by the gushing, hot spray. Pete's hands explored her strong young
body while she played with his stiff penis. Their kissing grew more
intense, desperate and passionate, and Traci began adjusting him to get
his dick in position. Now her eyes were closed and she began making
little moaning noises, as the moment of penetration drew nearer. Finally
she screamed loudly, crushed Pete's body to her bosom and he was inside
of her. For what seemed to him like hours, they rocked gently back and
forth, savouring the sensation of their coupling, the steamy water and
the sensual passion they were sharing. Moans, cries, shout, the
occasional whispered words were exchanged between them as Peter built to
a climax.

"I'm going to cum...really soon,"

"Yes, yes!"

"You...try to...cum too...at the same time."

"How?"

"I don't know. Just...try to feel it."

Both of Traci's were on cupping his butt cheeks, supporting him and
guiding his pelvis back and forth, as fucked each other. Traci felt
Pete's body tighten. His arms held her tightly around the neck and she
could feel his heels against the backs of her thighs as he fused himself
to her. They were now standing absolutely still. As she felt the hot cum
explode into her, Traci experienced her first orgasm. She pressed Pete's
chest hard against her breasts, repeating "oh god, oh god" over and
over.

For a minute or two, they remained practically motionless, save for Pete
nuzzling her hair and Traci pressing little kisses onto his chest. Then
she set him back on his feet, picked up the soap and washed the sticky
juices from both their bodies. Pete turned off the water and they got
out. They was more kissing and cuddling, then they toweled themselves
off.

"How does your knee feel?"

"Fine. I think you cured it."

She laughed.

"No, it really does feel better. I'm going to take a couple of
pain-killers, though. Can you pass me that bottle there?"

Pete took a swallow of water, downing the pills.

"Come on," aid Traci, let's get you onto the bed

"I think I can walk on it now."

Pete gingerly put some weight on his leg, testing the knee when Traci
bent down, seized his wrist and pulled it over her shoulder and lifted
him across her back in a fireman's carry.

"What are you doing?"

"Just because you CAN walk doesn't mean I'm going to let you. In case
you haven't figured it out by now, I like carrying guys."

She opened the bathroom door and carried Pete back to his bedroom. She
laid him down on the bed and turned to go downstairs to fetch the ice
pack out of the freezer.

"Wait!" Pete called out, "come here for a sec."

She did, and he pulled her down onto the bed beside him. She giggled and
protested, but didn't get back up. For another few minutes, they lay
naked, cuddling and kissing. Then Traci got up, still nude and ran
downstairs. Returning with the ice pack, she wrapped it in a dry towel,
and fitted it around Pete's knee. She propped his leg up on a pillow and
pulled the blankets up over him.

"I'm really hungry. I'm going to get dressed, then we should think about
food.

"There's some steak in the fridge, and some fresh corn on the cob.

"Mmmm, sounds good. I'll be right back," she said, kissing him on the
forehead.

Traci grabbed her clothes and returned to the bathroom. She felt
exhilarated in a way she hadn't thought possible. Every pore on her body
tingled. She felt giddy, energetic and part of her wanted to just jump
up and down with child-like glee. And yet, she also felt another
sensation, the soft, delicate afterglow of the sexually-satisfied woman.
Alone with her thoughts, Traci took her time. When she returned to
Pete's room, he as fast asleep. He looked peaceful and contented.

Traci went back downstairs and began investigating Pete's kitchen. She
put a couple of potatos in the oven to bake, found a big pot and began
boiling water for the corn and took the steak out the fridge. Then she
poured herself a glass of juice and explored Pete's house. It was simply
decorated, but neat and tidy. The yard was small, but fenced and had a
couple of nice fruit trees, one apple and one plum. The plums were ripe
and dropping from the tree. Traci gathered a few and took them inside to
wash them. She took a couple with her and sat out in a lawn chair. The
plums were sweet and full of juice. As she ate them,  Traci managed to
drip a fair bit of it on herself, and it ran down her chest onto her
top. She went back into the kitchen and took her shirt off, washed out
the plum juice. She noticed some had gotten on her bra too, so she took
that off and rinsed it out as well. As she went to hang the garments on
the coat rack by the front door, Traci caught sight of herself in the
hallway mirror. Not normally given to such pure vanity, this time she
couldn't help but stop and stare. She noticed her breasts were still
tingling with a milder version of the sensation she'd felt when she had
burst into orgasm. Experimentally, she pinched and rubbed her nipples.
The sensation heightened. She slid out of her shorts, fully naked once
more. She flexed her legs and felt tremendous pleasure at the sight of
their dancing muscles and tendons. Cocking her arms, she made the two
hard, round balls that were her biceps muscles appear. She was fixated
at the sight of her own image. She felt extraordinary...like a goddess.
Standing in front of the mirror, in perhaps the purest moment of
unabashed vanity she would ever experience, Traci masturbated herself
into another powerful orgasm.

A few minutes later, now wearing only one of Pete's work shirts,
unbuttoned but tied in a loose knot around her waist, she heard a noise
behind her as she checked on the steaks grilling in the oven. Pete stood
there, a towel wrapped around him, mouth open, an unreadable expression
in his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Making us dinner, silly. You're still hungry, right? I'm famished.
Everything else is ready, I'm just cooking the steak now. How do you
like yours done? It's such a gorgeous evening, we should eat outside. I
like your yard, it's nice and private. I had some plums from the tree.
They were really juicy. That's why I'm wearing your shirt. The juice got
all over..."

She was talking a mile a minute, one thought into the next, without a
pause, standing there naked save for his oversize blue shirt and a pair
of flowery-patterned, worse-for-the-ear oven mitts. It was too much and
Pete burst out laughing. Traci looked perturbed, then confused, then she
too began to laugh.

"Oh, am I talking too fast? I do that when I get excited. My dad used to
laugh at that too."

The mention of Traci's father reminded Pete of Traci's age and he began
to feel awkward again.

"That's ok," Pete smiled.

Traci set the patio table and carried their plates of food out to the
backyard. She helped Pete out of the house and made sure he was
comfortable before sitting down herself. The sun was low in the sky now
and a bit of breeze came up. They were both too starved to linger over
the food anyway, so they ate quickly and went back inside the house.
Traci insisted they do the dishes, because she didn't want Pete hobbling
around on his sore knee any more than necessary. After that chore was
done, Traci wanted to go back upstairs. Pete wasn't immediately
enthusiastic, but he figured that what's already done can't be undone,
so he allowed Traci to carry him back upstairs, this time in an
over-the-shoulder hold. They reached the bedroom again and Traci
manouvered him around behind her, so he was across her back once more.
She started feeling around with her hands, looking for the places she
wanted to put them. Then, with a bit of a grunt, Traci lifted him up and
over her head. She held him up for a few seconds before setting him down
gently on the bed.

"Holy Christ. I can't believe how strong you are."

Traci beamed with delight.

By now, Pete had forgotten all about those qualms he was having and
again felt himself being overcome with lust. She joined him on the bed
and they made love again, this time slowly and tenderly. This time, they
both nodded off when their coupling was complete.

It was dark when Pete woke up and was disoriented. What time was it? The
bedside clock said 9:55. Normally, he'd be heading for bed in about an
hour, but he didn't feel at all tired. He did, for some reason he was
unable to put his finger on right away, feel anxious. Suddenly, he
realized he was alone.

"Traci?" he called out.

There was no answer. He shouted out to her again, but heard nothing.
Getting out of bed and switching on the light, the first thing he
noticed was his blue work shirt lying across the foot of the bed. Then
he saw the note pinned to it.

"Dear Pete...dear, dear Pete. I had such a good time with you today.
Really, it was so much more, I don't even know how to describe it. It
felt things for the very first time. I know it sounds really corny, but
today, I feel like a woman. A powerful woman. I love the way I feel now,
like I can do anything. I mean, I was always taught to believe that, but
now I think I really do. I'm glad my first time was with you. You are a
wonderful man. You remind me a lot of my father and I know I'm never
going to forget you, or this day we shared. Thank you so much.

Love, Traci