What’s that I spy up there? Yeah… a little to the right… just a little more… there we go. Perfect view. Jeesus look at those bajubblies. Gawd-damn! There’s worse things in the world than being a back-up catcher that loses his job to Paul Bako because I’m hitting .222 and batting out of order on teammates now. Nevermind that shit now. I want that as far from my mind as possible. I just wanna crunch this cold ice between my teeth and see some tits.
That’s right baby. Move a little forward. Bend down to get something in your purse. Davey likey. You know me honey. And you know what I want. Oh Lordy, if you move just a bit further down I might see nipple. That’s it honey. You like big leaguers don’t you? I’m just gonna keep staring blatantly and hope that you notice a few more times. Finally when it’s so obvious we both know what’s going on, I’ll smile a cheesy grin–you know–that grin that a guy smiles in a strip club when he’s holding a single dollar bill tightly between his incisors. And I’ll imagine you taking that dollar from me; and I’ll give it to you willingly; but only if you wrestle it away with the lips of your vagina.
The world needs more women like you. I hope you’re a note passer. If you wanna give me a note after the game and you expect to hear from me it better say something filthy. I wish you were in the first row so I could see if you favored purple panties or red.
I’m not going to pretend, I don’t even know who we’re playing tonight–I don’t even care. I’d rather it be this way, that way I can focus in on you. And I swear, of all my years around a ballfield those are the nicest knockers I’ve ever laid eyes on. I have to have them. I can’t even control myself. I’m going to have to go into the clubhouse stall or something if you keep stretching with your arms back like that. But don’t stop…. heavens don’t you ever stop.
Damn. Being a big league catcher is great.