The following is an excerpt from ‘Bleacher Bums,’ an erotic story by Oleander Plume that is part of ‘Bases Loaded,’ which compiles twelve seriously sexy short stories that will have you rooting for the happy ending, even if you are not a baseball fan.

“You are full of good ideas, Janet.” I set the cups down, and she added the liquor. “What did I miss?”

“Jacobs flied out, Andrews struck out, and Gomez bunted the ball right back to the pitcher.” She watched me pull the licorice and pretzels out of my hoodie pocket. “Wow. Are you hiding anything else in those magical pockets of yours?

“Yeah, but I’m saving that for later.” She had the cutest giggle, like nuclear level cute. Did I mention I was screwed? Because I was. Screwed. I sat next to her and sipped the hot chocolate. It tasted like she poured in three shots worth, and burned my nose hair.

“This is like antifreeze, I can feel my toes again.”

“Want to share my blanket?” She wagged her eyebrows at me. “I won’t bite.”

“Well that’s disappointing.” We scooched together until our thighs touched. She covered our laps with a big, thick blanket. “Much better, thanks.” We sipped the drinks, ate pretzels, and watched our team blow another inning. The schnapps hit me hard, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “You know what this tastes like?” I asked her.

“What?”

“Christmas. This tastes like fucking Christmas.”

“I am feeling merry. Very Merry.” She picked up a Super Rope. “You know, I tied a guy up with these once.” I choked on my beverage. “Care for a demonstration?”

“Here?”

“Who can see us up here? And it’s not like we’re naked.” I set my drink down on the bench, and held out my wrists. Thirty seconds later, my bound hands were dangling between my knees. “I can do anything I want to you now,” she said.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Do you like public sex, Jerome?” I pictured my dick running in from the sidelines screaming, “Say yes, you asshole, say yes!”

“Yeah, I do, hell yeah even.”

Janet grinned and adjusted the blanket, covering me up to my nipples.

“Just act natural.” She somehow got her hand under my arm, and rubbed my cock through my jeans. Ben Lewis was up to bat, I was buzzed as fuck, and a hot chick was fondling my junk. Just when I thought this situation could not possibly get any better, she tugged down my zipper. “You don’t mind if I pull him out, do you?”

“No, not at all.” Holy fuck, now I was half naked in public, bound with licorice and dripping pre-come on a metal bench. A vision of that Christmas movie popped in my head, the one where that kid gets his tongue stuck to the flagpole and I wondered if the same thing could happen to my dick.

“Your cock feels really good in my hand, but I need to touch the rest. Can you sit up a little so I can pull your pants down?”

“Say what?” Once again, my dick shouted at me. “Shut up and let her do it, Jerome!”

“I want to reach all your naughty bits. Don’t worry, no one is even looking up here.” I glanced around. The only diehards left were in the expensive seats, way down below. Hell, we don’t even have a hot dog vendor nearby. I raised my butt off the bench, and let her tug my jeans past my hips. My bare ass hit the cold metal, and I didn’t even care. “There, that’s better,” she said. Her left arm went around my shoulders, and her right hand reached over my arms and between my legs. “Mmm, so big and hard.”