But something was different, and, whatever it was, Sandy seemed to be the only antidote. When she was nearby, when I could think about her, back there...behind me in the stands, the fear -- if that's what it was -- didn't take hold of me.Superstition? Was that all it was? Maybe. But I had never been superstitious. I'd never cared about mystical stuff; it had always seemed like bullshit to me. I certainly didn't worry about black cats, or stepping on the baseline when I left the playing field.But. But it felt incredible!! He would gently push his finger in my ass and, because it was so wet back there, it slid in easily.When he finally came up for air, the first thing that popped in my head was "he's crazy if he thinks he's going to kiss me!" Instead he rolled me over on to my stomach where I was laying flat on the bed and kept my skirt lifted up. I heard his pants drop to the floor and he gingerly got on top of me. Without saying a word, he pressed his head around the opening of my ass. More

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