"Who the hell is this?" Think about for a little while and I'll call you later." She said and hung up.I checked the caller ID and it only said PRIVATE...CALLER.I was awakened from a sound sleep and I was still in a fog as I sat in the chair wondering what just happened. Nobody calls me Huxley, let alone Mr. Huxley and I still hadn't comprehended what she meant. Shaking off the cobwebs I tried to think of any women I had met or admired openly lately. I thought of a chick at work, the second. The season was far from over, but even were we to win all three against the Yankees (a highly unlikely scenario) we would end the month well out of first place.After New York, we'd fly to Seattle for three, and then to Anaheim for three more. The season was beginning to wear on us, physically.I was getting more playing time because Paul Warren wanted to rest all the regular outfielders as much as possible, and with our right fielder occasionally spelling Josh Brennan at first, I was getting. I was moaning and sweating profusely.She then asked me to lift my legs and shifted her attention to my ass hole. She asked me to spread to legs wider and I was listening to her as if I were possessed or I were her sex slave. She then asked me to close my eyes assuring me that it was going to hurt at first but then it was all pleasure. I closed my eyes and could feel a liquid sort of material begin applied to my ass hole. Then I could feel a finger go in deep . I hurt but I did not want it to. A guy in the radio show said the club sold four-thousand standing room only tickets, and that scalpers were getting five-hundred bucks for a box seat.Mr. Bell, Millie, Rebecca, Colleen, and Winnie were all in the stands. Jack was guarding the babies at the hotel, and he had all hands on deck taking care of my family. The visiting team, family section was moved closer to the broadcast booth for the playoffs. I could easily see my loved ones, as they enjoyed the crisp Michigan air, and Detroit.
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