Message-ID: <21345asstr$943056601@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: extra.newsguy.com!newsp.newsguy.com!edrn From: drspin@newsguy.com Subject: {ASSM} The Keeper's Wife (MF cheat) Lines: 157 X-Original-Message-ID: <812rfh$iq9@edrn.newsguy.com> Date: Fri, 19 Nov 1999 19:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, kelly, Lambchop The Keeper's Wife (MF cheat): By DrSpin ================================================================================ (EXPLANATORY NOTE: The background game, if you don't know, is cricket. This is a sport for gentlemen. In fact it's a way of life. But don't get me started. The point is, however, that this story is almost true. I played village cricket in England for two of the years I lived there. The captain/keeper and his wife are or were real people and this story very nearly happened. Only not to me. As usual (sigh!), I was merely an observer. In any case, I could not ever have scored 100 and never will be able to do so. Regrettably.) ================================================================================ We gathered around for the obligatory team talk. "It's time to stand up and be counted," the captain said, looking around the circle fiercely. "We've lost five matches in a row and if we don't turn it around today our season is down the tubes. You clowns are just not performing, especially those pretending to be batsmen. You're playing like wankers." Stan may have been the skipper but he was also a jerk. One of the reasons we were losing was Stan, who was neither an inspiring nor an intelligent leader. He was the wicketkeeper and one of those sportsmen who thought naked and raw aggression conquered all. Stan had a loud voice and a loud attitude. He was about as smooth as a 1930s elevator. Eager Jimmy, always optimistic, spoke up bravely. "I'll get a ton today," he promised. Yeah. Sure. Like Jimmy could get 100 off the best bowling attack in the league, which was what we were facing. He was averaging about 12 for the season. Stan the man and leader of men snorted derisively. "Jimmy," he bellowed in his coarsest voice, "if you can get a hundred off this mob Ronnie will give you a blowjob." A few guys laughed. I looked across at Veronica, sitting elegantly in a folding chair several metres away. She had to have heard but you wouldn't know it from her face. "As a matter of fact," shouted Stan, warming to it, "Ronnie will give anybody who gets a ton a blowjob. That's a promise." He turned to look at her. She was sitting with her legs crossed, looking at her husband steadily from under her wide-brimmed straw hat. "Safe bet, sweetheart," he said to her, irony heavy in his voice. "Nobody here has hit a century in three years." I'd often wondered about Stan and Veronica. He was barrel-shaped, balding, bellicose, blunt. She was slight, silky, serene, smooth. They'd been married a few years. I didn't know how long, because they were around when I moved to the village five years ago. She was, I thought, around 30. Maybe she was older. You couldn't tell. I found her charming, easy to talk to in a polite and restrained way, broadly intelligent and self-assured. I also found her sensuously attractive, like blue-curling cigarette smoke after a long and lonely non-smoking airline flight. The light cotton dress she was wearing floated daintily across her slim legs. She felt my eyes upon her and she turned her head slightly to look back at me. Jimmy opened the batting and was soon out for less than 10. I walked to the crease and took my guard. The ball was short and I swayed back and cut it sweetly to the fence. Pleasantly surprised, I hefted the weight of the bat. It felt naturally good. I hadn't batted well for some time but that first stroke had been as near perfect as I was ever going to get. I was dropped at cover when I reached 34. It was an easy catch. They dropped me again when I was 80. Another simple catch. It was my day. It happens every now and again. I scored 104 before I hit a return catch to the bowler and was out. The team and the small band of supporters clapped me enthusiastically though the picket gate as I walked off. Stan was first to shake my hand. He banged me hard on the back as I kneeled to take off the pads. I stood and thanked him briefly for his many expressions of gratitude. I was not a demonstrative person. Another hand reached through the throng to shake mine and I gripped it fleetingly. The hand was small and soft. I looked up and saw it was Veronica. She kept hold of my hand, her expression and her eyes unreadable. "I'll take Hugh away for a while," she said to her husband. "You won't be needing him for a bit, will you?" I saw it hit him. "Hey," he said, a lot more quietly than was his custom. "Ronnie, it was a joke." She was already walking away, towing me behind her. "It most certainly was not," she said over her shoulder. "It was a promise. Everybody heard it." The guys parted to let her through. I didn't look at them but turned my head back to Stan. He had his hands on his hips, bewildered. "It was a fucking joke," he yelled. She'd reached her car and, with a gesture, invited me to get into the passenger seat. "Ronnie?" Stan was shouting with a big question mark. She took off her hat, threw it to the back seat, slid smoothly into the driver's seat, turned the ignition key and drove away. "I'll pass on the blowjob," she said, her eyes on the road. "If you don't mind." "Of course not." I was, as I was always when I was with her, polite almost to the degree of old-fashioned manners. "Where are we going?" "My place," she said. "I don't particularly like blowjobs. Stan does, of course." "Veronica," I said carefully. "Perhaps we ought to return. I wouldn't want to be the cause of any trouble between you." She looked across at me briefly, a small smile twitching. "Not your concern. He has a big mouth and it's about time he paid up for it." I thought I saw where she was going. "So we pretend," I said. "Pretend nothing," she said snappily and happily. "I'm taking you home and into bed." Huh. What? "Uh, look," I began. And didn't know how to continue. "I said I didn't like blowjobs but there's nothing wrong with good honest sex. Besides, I've fancied you for ages." "Uh..." "And you've fancied me too. You think I didn't know?" "Well..." "Those dropped catches today were a godsend." "Veronica, Veronica." "What?" She twisted around in the car seat. "Don't say you're going coy on me. Not when I've got a free pass." "Veronica, I've just been batting for an hour and a half. I badly need a shower. Badly." She chuckled. "Maybe not first thing." She was all I thought she could be. Slim, pale and ardent. She was admiring about my lean stomach and especially my hipbone and the flat and hard area around it, which she caressed with her hands and lips. I delighted in her slender and pliant body, her cool skin and her grace and economy of movement. She had small and flattish breasts but extraordinarily long exotic nipples. She pushed me on my back and bestrode me before I was allowed to shower. After that I took her conventionally. It was quick without being reckless, businesslike without being mechanical. She knew what she wanted and she got it. "I'm late," I said, looking at my watch. She was driving me back to the cricket ground. "They'll be missing me in the field." She braked hard, throwing me forward. She reversed the car for a few metres and turned down a leafy lane. "Is this a short cut?" I asked. She stopped the car, nosing it under a spreading tree. "You'll have to be a bit later," she said. "If I know you, you'll keep silent about today's events. You won't say a word. But I'll be telling Stan I gave you a blowjob, according to his instructions. Okay?" I shrugged. "Fine. Whatever you say." "But I hate lying," she said, sliding her hand under the waist of my white Gunn & Moore cricket trousers. "So I'm about to give you one." "But you don't like it. You made that clear." She lowered her head. "This is a special occasion," she said. "You did get a hundred." ENDS Email address: drspin@newsguy.com -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. 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