Fucking Teagan – part 3

I awoke with a start. All of my senses on full alert, my heart pounding in my chest. I froze, motionless; listening intently for any noise out of the ordinary. I heard nothing but Teagan’s soft, slow breathing. She was still deeply asleep. I slowly shifted around to look at her, still half expecting to see someone or something in the room that should not have been there. Of course, nothing was there. Whatever woke me was most likely a creation of my own sleep deprived brain. It had been an amazing last thirty six hours and neither one of us had slept much with Courtney in our bed the night before. Threesomes may be great for sex, but they aren’t worth a damn for sleeping.

I lay there watching Teagan in the gathering light of dawn. The sun was not yet up, but there was enough light in the room to see her clearly. She was on her stomach. Her head and chest lying on a pillow, with her arms draped up and over the pillow, encircling her head. The covers were down around her waist; the top of her boy shorts were just visible under the thick, fluffy comforter. She was not wearing a top; her long, glossy black hair flowed in soft waves down the curve of her back. Her gorgeous olive tan skin, in beautiful contrast to the bright white sheets. She was so peaceful, so damn sexy.

I slowly rolled over and slipped out of bed, trying desperately not to wake Teagan. I glanced back at her as I crept out of the room, she had not moved. I headed into the kitchen and started the oven preheating and the coffee pot. I had my first cup as the turnovers were cooking in the oven.

I carefully opened the bedroom door and peeked in, balancing the tray with breakfast, on my hand, waiter style. I managed to get back into the room without dropping the tray or slamming the door. I set the tray on the nightstand, silently crawled back into bed and crept over next to Teagan. I leaned over her, softly kissed her cheek and whispered “Good morning gorgeous.” I traced my fingers gently along the sexy curve of the small of her back. Teagan moaned softly and then took a deep breath and opened her eyes. “Hey baby…” she smiled, slowly rolling onto her side and curling up, facing me. “What time is it?” Teagan asked sleepily. “About 6:45.” I said. “6:45!” Teagan whined. “I’m going back to sleep!” She snipped, as she snuggled down into the thick mattress and comforter.

“If you do, the turnovers and coffee are going to get cold.” I teased, ignoring her whiny protest.

Teagan did not move, but opened her eyes as a grin crossed her lips. “Awwww…did you make me breakfast in bed? That is SO sweet!” Teagan slowly sat up and stretched, as I leaned over to kiss her. We kissed passionately for a few moments, as I reached up and gently caressed her perky boobs with the back of my hand. She pulled back playfully, lowered her chin, and said “Keep that up stud, and the only hot breakfast you are going to get this morning is me.” She had a particularly sexy look in her eyes, and if we hadn’t had so much to do, I’d have probably taken her up on the offer.

We sat in bed for some time talking, eating cherry turnover pastries, drinking coffee, and laughing about anything and everything. We watched the first shafts of sunlight finally make their way into the room; shooting across from the upper most bay windows to the opposite wall, looking like yellow laser beams. I looked at her and said “Baby, can we take a few minutes and talk about us, please?”

“Why?” “What’s wrong?” Teagan responded in a worried tone.

“Nothing baby, nothing’s wrong. It’s just that we have been lovers for almost five months and we have never seriously talked about us as a couple. I mean, it seems to me that we started out as friends with benefits, but, at least from my perspective, we have moved way beyond that. I believe it may be time to upgrade our friends-with-benefits-silver-cards, to committed-couple-gold cards. I know what I want from our relationship, but I have no real idea where you stand and what you’re feeling about me. I don’t know if…”
“I Love You!” Teagan interrupted. “That is what I am feeling, I…Love…You!” She had a playful smile on her face.
I paused for a minute, trying to decide if she meant, “puppy love” or if she could, actually, be “in love” with me. “Baby, I think you misunderstood…” I said.

“No…I did not.” She replied emphatically. “I…Love…You. I love you as a person, as my lover, as my boyfriend, as part of the couple that includes me. Say it any way you like…I have fallen in love with you and I am not interested in having you, or anyone else, try to talk me out of it.” She slinked over to me, on her hands and knees and sat on my lap facing me. She moved with a distinctly feline sensuality. “That’s why, on Friday night, I told you that “the time we spend making love is the best thing I have ever done. I love the feeling of having you deep inside me. It makes me feel desired and cared for, I love every minute of it and I don’t ever want it to end. I said that partly for your benefit, but also, partly as a warning to Courtney. The two of you were getting ready to fuck each other. I had to let you know what you mean to me. It was all I could come up with off the top of my head. But I meant every word of it.”

I reached up and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, and then pulled her as close to me as I could. “I’ve fallen in love with you too, Teagan. You mean so much to me!” I whispered. She scooted up and pressed her body against me as we kissed with a sensual, slow burning passion that, until that moment, had remained hidden behind a curtain of uncertainty. Now that the curtain was pulled aside, Teagan and I were free to fully express what we were feeling for one another. She broke away from the wet passionate kissing and fondling, took a deep, calming breath, leaned back away from me slightly and pleaded, “Do we HAVE to go to practice this morning? I mean, I am offering lots of special exercise right here in bed…” She was grinning at me mischievously, but she already knew the answer.

“Sadly baby, practice is not just about you and me. There is a whole team counting on both of us to be there.

“I know.” She replied in a bit of a disappointed voice. “Just promise me we will pick up where we leave off when we get back. OK?”

“OK, I promise baby.” Teagan kissed me softly once more, smiled, rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

Out in the garage I was loading the ball bags, hitting nets, ice cooler, and other assorted equipment. Teagan joined me, threw her bat bag into the truck bed and hopped into the cab. She had two travel mugs of coffee, one for each of us. Our practice time and facility was different than most other teams. Many select teams chose to practice in the evenings and at the fancy new, softball parks around the city. Renegade (our team) chose a different route. Our primary practice was on Sunday, starting at 9:15am. The fields were secluded, and in an older section of town. The city kept the fields in excellent condition, but since they were built in the late 1970’s they lacked the newer amenities of the fancy suburban complexes. The three-field complex was in a heavily wooded park, alongside a creek that ran not far beyond the outfield walls of the three fields. Many of the residents of the area were elderly, and we sometimes had a small audience if the weather was nice. Most importantly, we had room to work and privacy.


I first noticed her about an hour into practice. She was sitting by herself on one end of the creaky wooden bleachers. She was a mousy, hazel eyed, brunette with sort of an unhappy pout on her full heart shaped lips and had a splash of freckles across her cheeks and nose. She was athletic, but her body was not well toned or defined. She was wearing a t shirt that was a bit too small and a pair of old soccer shorts. She looked like she ate a lot of empty calories, as she had a bit of a muffin top. She did have pretty legs, but had a long, nasty looking, jagged scar across her right knee. It was clearly visible as her legs were tanned, but the scar was not. It also had a reddish tinge to it. The scar appeared to be recent.

“Ladies, get your bats and go see Mitch please.” I cut short the infield drills as my curiosity about the mystery girl was killing me.

“Coach, we haven’t finished the drills yet.” Kylie protested.

“This is not open to discussion Kylie, let’s go ladies, NOW!” They all jogged in unison over to the dugout. I followed them and pulled two bottles of water out of the cooler. Teagan looked at me curiously. I put my finger up to my lips in a “shhhh” sign. She just shook her head, rolled her eyes, and turned to follow Ally, Kylie and the other infielders to the batting area.

I walked up behind the mystery girl, leaned on the top seat of the bleachers, and handed her a bottle of water. “Here, you looked thirsty.” “I’m Coach Mike.”

“Oh! Thank you! I’m Skye.” She spoke softly and seemed to be shy, as she would not look directly at me.

“Well Skye, It’s nice to meet you.” “What brings you to our super secret practice facility on this beautiful Sunday morning?”

“This is Renegade isn’t it?” “I watched some of the games you played a couple of weeks ago. The girls are really good.” She said, watching the field, and still not looking at me.

“Yes they are.” I replied “Why?”

Skye began to tell me her story. She had been a promising pitcher as a 12u player. In her final season before moving to 14U she tried to cover home plate to prevent a steal. The result was a devastating collision with the other players steel cleats. The collision had shredded her skin from shin to thigh, detached her kneecap, and tore her ACL and MCL. Three surgeries and fourteen months of reconstruction and physical therapy later, and she had a clean bill of health from all of the Dr.’s involved.

“I want to see if I can still pitch.” Skye said quietly. “Nobody believes I can, except me. All I want is a chance, and everybody tells me I won’t be any good anymore.”

She was clearly frustrated and on the verge of tears. I hated it when adults, who should know better, needlessly pissed on a kid’s dreams. Hell, all she wanted was a shot to see if she still had “it.” “Come with me, Skye” I said and headed toward the field.

“Aimee, put your gear on sweetie, I have a project for you.” “Hey Mitch, you got a second?” I said.

“Sure!” Mitch said, turning around. “Who’s this?” Mitch asked curiously as Skye stepped around from behind me.

“Mitch; Skye” “Skye; Mitch” I said introducing the two. “Skye is a pitcher and has an interesting story.”

Skye began repeating the same story she told me. She mentioned that she had pitched for St. Basil’s Prep Academy. She was still enrolled there. She also lamented the fact that she had gained about thirty pounds over the last year, as she had not been able to run or workout. All she did was lift some free weights to try to keep her arms strong. Aimee walked up to us, all geared up, curious to see what the fuss was about.

“Aimee, this is Skye” Mitch said “I want you to warm her up and memorize her pitches. I want her to throw live batting practice later.” Skye had a big grin on her face for the first time since I noticed her earlier. Skye and Aimee headed off to get warmed up.

“Man, are you picking up strays again? Where did SHE come from?” Mitch asked with just a bit of condescension in his voice.

“Don’t know exactly. I noticed her over on the bleachers by herself. She came here alone and knew exactly who Rnegade is. She came here looking for us.” I mused. “Gotta admire her spunkiness, not just everybody walks up to a top team and asks for a tryout.”

“True.” Mitch said. “My first reaction is not positive however.”

“Mine either.” I replied. “But, you never know, and we still need another pitcher to take with us to Colorado.”

About forty minutes later, Aimee and Skye came walking over to me. “How’s your knee Skye?” I asked.

“It’s fine. No problem.” She said with an icy cold confidence.

“Would you have told me if it wasn’t?” I asked.

“No, probably not.” Skye replied with a sly grin. I just smiled. I was beginning to like this kid.

“Aimee, how’d she do?”

“She did good with most of her pitches. Her rise ball sometimes doesn’t jump and her speed is not as fast as Hunter or KT. She has a really nasty drop curve; overall, she has pretty good movement on her pitches.”

Mitch walked up and asked “Are we ready to go live?”

“Looks like it.” I said “Might want to get the radar gun, just to know for sure.”

“One step ahead of you.” Mitch replied holding up the gun. “Just to know for sure.”

“LADIES, GET YOUR BATS AND HELMETS AND JOIN ME AT HOME PLATE.” Mitch yelled. Within a minute most of the girls had joined us and were introduced to Skye.

I set up the rules. “Ladies, we are going to see how Skye does against live batting. Your job is to put the bat on everything she throws at you. Skye, your job is to piss every one of them off by striking them out. Ladies you will come to the plate with a two ball one strike count. You will hit until you get a hit or until Skye strikes you out or walks you. You can have all the foul balls you need. Mitch will call balls and strikes and Aimee will catch and call the pitches. Any questions?” There were none. “Let’s get started. Reverse the batting order from the last tournament.”

Skye turned out to be a keeper. She didn’t overly impress, but neither was she a disappointment. The speed on her fast ball was only about 57 mph; a full 5-6 mph below Hunter’s average, and 7 mph below KT’s best heat. Her curve, drop curve, screw, rise, and changeup were good enough to have struck out about a third of our lineup; she walked two, and gave up a home run to Mallori. Actually, not bad at all for a girl who hadn’t pitched in anger in almost 15 months.

We invited her to the team/parent meeting we were having that evening at McAlester’s Grill. We had the details, and needed to discuss the Colorado trip with everyone. Mitch and I had all of three months to refine Skye’s pitching and get her to drop nearly 30 pounds. Not to mention, putting a sharp edge on the rest of the team. Confidence was high; but we had our work cut out for us.

On the ride home, Teagan was unusually subdued and quiet. “You feeling OK baby?” I asked.

Teagan was leaning against the truck door; arms crossed and staring at me.