It was a feeling that I had never experienced, before I'd gotten my face broken by a fastball.It still didn't feel like fear. I didn't feel like I was bailing out on the pitches, or flinching. 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 now. I felt like a hitter when Sandy was there. I even forgot, a couple of times, to put on my Captain America goggles when I went up to the plate.But when Sandy wasn't there, I felt a little empty. Hard to admit something like that. It was like being kind of weak: it made me feel effeminate, even,. Both still had the feeling there was more to be had, more orgasms, of course, and more serious intensity. Shattering... grueling... excruciating, Laura thought, feeling momentarily ashamed that she could not fuck with Karen without having these thoughts come up.Karen's tongue was in her ear, arousing her again after just a few seconds. "I want more," Karen breathed. "I want more. I can't stand it. I want you to bite my nipples. Do it now. I can come again. Right now. I'm so horny. Please, Laura, do it. Pinch them, bite them. Put that nasty clamp on my boobs." You're so bad," Laura smiled, kissing her. "Can't we do anything normal?" We just did something normal. Now I want to do something perverted."With a half smile, Laura reached under the bed and pulled out the nasty clamp. It had been there since the night with Earlene. They both looked at it, hypnotized, running their fingers along the hard rubber bars, both recalling the pain of their breasts crushed between these bars, and the.
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