Oh no, not another baseball reference.
I guess I can’t help it; nine years of kicking dirt off the mound has developed in me the state of wallowing in the memories every time I smell cut grass. I’m as American as they come.
But first base used to be a kiss. Now, the first order of action looks somewhat like the 25 in-sequence still frames above. The first thing I do, nowadays, is reach for your clit.
Spit on my hand and rub your little pink bean into a frenzy, never stopping until your knees bend inward, tremors encompassing your being as I round first base.
Do I go for a stand-up double, cause I think I make it to third? Flip you onto your back and face first into your beautiful pussy, flicking and sucking that heartbeat-laden clit until I see the next two orgasms envelop your state of mind.
Fuck it. I’m heading for home and running over everything that stands in my way. Hands squeezing the air out of your neck as I drive my cock as deep and hard as I can go inside you.
Home sweet home, Kitten.