Baseball dreams

She caught herself licking her lips the last time he took batting practice. That wood—long, thick, and heavy—looked like it belonged somewhere else. This afternoon, the house empty, she hauled the bat upstairs like it owed her something. The bedroom door slammed shut behind her and she peeled off her clothes fast, the whole time staring at the smooth handle and the fat barrel. Lingerie hit the floor next. She lay back on the sheets, legs spread, pussy already glistening. One hand gripped the bat while the other spread her lips, teasing herself until her fingers came away slick. Then she lined up the tapered handle, pressed it against her entrance, and started to work it in. Inch by slow inch, the wood stretched her open, the cool grain sliding deeper until her hungry cunt swallowed more than she thought possible. She paused to breathe, sweat beading on her tits, then pushed again, taking the thicker section, feeling that obscene stretch right where she needed it. The room filled with wet sounds as she fucked herself with his bat, hips rising to meet every thrust, moaning like the dirty little blonde she is. Every time the barrel bottomed out, another rush of heat rolled through her until she was shaking, legs trembling, pussy clenching around the hard length buried inside her.