Lets go Mets! (M/F Spanking fiction/humor)

Lets go Mets!

June is the time for inter-league baseball games. One of the most intense inter-league rivalries can be found in The Big Apple when the New York Yankees face off against the New York Mets.

”That pitch went right down the heart of the plate, and he just couldn’t get the bat around in time and that brings the count to 1 ball and 2 strikes with 2 out and a runner on first.”

Brad and Erin were watching the end of the opening game in the New York inter-league “subway series.” It had been a true pitcher’s duel throughout, but the Yankees were now leading the game by one run as the Mets took their final turn at bat in the 9th inning.

Erin was a petite woman with strawberry blonde hair and striking blue eyes. She was brushing back her long locks with her hairbrush. Having finished, she put her navy blue Yankees baseball cap back on her head. She turned and smiled at Brad, who was dressed in his favorite Mets t-shirt and matching Mets cap.

”The Mets really suck,” Erin said. “But that shouldn’t be a surprise to you. You should really ditch that Mets cap and get a shirt and hat that say ‘New York Losers.’ Twenty-Eight World Series titles in the Bronx, baby!” Erin hooted as she did a happy wiggle on the couch. “The last time the Mets won a World Series they only won because the Red Sox choked!” She was referring to the 1986 World Series.

Brad sat quietly, a scowl on his face. His arms were crossed and his hands were clenched into fists. Inwardly, he was praying to the God he worshiped that the Mets would give him reason to fire back with some verbal taunts. But Brad was a lifelong Mets fan; so deep down in his heart he knew it was unlikely that his team would give him any ammunition.

”That pitch came in high for ball two and the runner goes…The Yankees catcher holds onto the ball so that will be scored as defensive indifference.”

”Look at that! Those morons can’t even get a real stolen base. They have to settle for a defensive indifference call. More like ‘defensive sympathy.’” Erin laughed at her own joke and squirmed with delight on the couch.

The obnoxious Yankees fan he had somehow managed to fall in love with had been badgering him with these comments all day long. Brad was no longer able to contain himself. “Nah,” he said, “the Yankees were afraid that if their catcher botched the throw that runner could possibly score and tie the game. How many of those throws has that nitwit sent into center field this year? About 15, I think. That was really a ‘defensive anxiety’ call.”

”Ha, ha, ha,” Erin said with sarcasm. “The Mets will still lose, because that’s all that they know how to do. My team knows how to win!”
”The Yankees closer has been lights out in his last seven games,” the announcer on the TV continued, “He’s allowed no runs on only one hit and three walks; the third of those three walks is now standing at second base after that defensive indifference call.”

”Our closer knows how to close a game. Doesn’t your closer have more blown saves than actual saves?”

Brad just scowled at the remark.

”There’s the wind-up and there’s the pitch, a high velocity fastball on the inside part of the plate…that ball is well hit and going deep to left-center field…”

Erin jumped from the couch and began to do a happy dance in the living room. “And it’s caught!” she squealed with delight. “The Yankees win again,” she chanted in a sing-song voice. “The Mets suck; the Yankees rule, you suck and I rule,” she sang as she turned and pointed at Brad with arms extended and both index fingers out.

The announcer on the television continued. “He’s looking up and it’s outta here!” Erin’s face turned red and then purple as her features pinched into a look of disbelief. “The Mets take game one in the series with a two run walk off home run against the Yankees closer!”

The second television announcer took up the talk. “He had been almost perfect in his last seven outings, but even with the trouble the Mets have had scoring runs this year, no pitcher, I don’t care how good he is, can make a mistake on the inside of the plate to this hitter. If you do, you’ll get burned.”

”And he sure did get burned on that pitch. That was a gopher ball that he would really like to take back!” Erin turned to face the television as the announcers had been speaking. She stood with an open jaw watching the runners trot around the bases as replay footage of the home run was being replayed.

Brad shut the television off. He looked at Erin, standing in her Yankkes cap, navy blue Yankees t-shirt and her shorts that had the Yankees emblem emblazoned along the backside. A smile crossed his face. It was an evil, sadistic smile, but it was a smile. It had been a long time since the Mets had made him smile.

”That was nice,” Brad said.

”So they won a game. Even the Mets haven’t figured out how to lose 162 games in a season – Yet!” Erin snapped. “My Yankees are still in first place in the American League East.”

”You may want to rethink that,” a smiling Brad said, “The Yanks were only half a game up coming into this game. Since they lost, they’re now in a tie for first with…” Brad inhaled deeply, and then in a venomous voice he spat the words, “The Red Sox!”
Erin’s eyes flashed with hatred and rage at the mention of that baseball team. “Yeah, well…the Yanks can retake first easily enough! Especially now that Boston’s first baseman is on the disabled list! The Mets, they’re what, chasing the Washington Nationals for last place, or something?”

”Again, you need to rethink that,” Brad said. His evil and sadistic smile grew into a wicked and cruel grin. “With this win against the Yanks, the Mets are now a game behind the Phillies for first place. And if the Phillies lose to the Devil Rays tonight, and they may just lose that game, the Mets will be in a first place tie!”

Erin gave a sarcastic laugh that was devoid of any true mirth. “The Mets in first place,” she repeated. “Boy, that really does show what a weak division the National League East is! If the Mets could be anywhere near the top of the standings, then the whole division is a joke!”

Brad gave a content sigh and looked at Erin with the grin still on his face. “Come here, my sweet little dumpling,” he said.

”Um…no?” Erin replied.

Brad held his left hand up and waved his fingers back towards himself. “Come here, my darling,” he said.

”Nah, I don’t wanna,” Erin said.

Brad leaned forward in his seat. Crooking his right index finger and looking Erin directly in the eyes, he said again, “Come here, my sweet.”

Erin opened her mouth to reply, but Brad was up in a flash. He grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her back to the couch. Caught off balance, Erin slipped face first over Brad’s lap. “Brad! What are you doing?!?”

Brad did not reply. His grin grew wider as he looked at those nave blue shorts with the Yankees emblem across the backside. With a single jerk, he yanked them down to her thighs. Her panties had been caught in his grasp as well and they turned themselves inside out as the garments were pulled down her legs.

”Brad!” Erin screeched, “What the hell! Let go of me!”

”I’m so gonna enjoy this,” Brad said. A moment later, Brad’s right hand descended on Erin’s bottom with a resounding crack.

”OW!!” Erin kicked her legs as the sharp sting raced through her bottom. “Okay, Brad, you had your joke. Let me up!”

”Sure, I’ll let you up. After you tell me the Yankees suck!”
”NEVER!!!”

Another sharp stinging blow landed on Erin’s bottom. She let out a howl and tried to squirm away from Brad, but it was a useless effort. Brad was a head taller than the woman and a full 110 pounds heavier. She was trapped.

”The Mets spanked the Yanks, and now I get to spank a Yankees fan!” Brad laughed at and unleashed 8 more hard stinging swats on Erin’s bottom in rapid fire succession.

”OWWW!!! Damnit, Brad, LET ME UP!!!”

”Not until you say the Yankees suck.”

Pouting, and pounding her fists against the arm of the couch, Erin said in a near whisper, “the Yankees suck.”

”Oh, that was weak,” Brad said. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the hairbrush Erin had been using earlier; a plastic handled brush with a rubber backing on the oval area that held the bristles. “I think you need more motivation!”

Brad raised the hairbrush and flicking his wrist like a pro, he snapped it off of Erin’s left buttock. The woman howled and bucked, but Brad held firm and quickly delivered an identical blow to her right buttock.

”I believe you were saying something before?” Brad asked casually, his smile not the least bit diminished.

”THE YANKEES SUCK!” Erin screamed. “I said it, now let me up!”

”No,” Brad said holding her firmly in place. “I think it’s time to lure you away from the Dark Side and make you walk the path of the Jedi!”

”What the fuck?” Erin said.

Without warning, Brad raised the brush. Taking careful aim at the tender spot where Erin’s bottom and thighs met, he let go with the rally cry of Mets fans. “LETS GO METS!” he chanted, emphasizing each word with a stinging swat of the brush on the very tender area of the sit spot.

Erin kicked her feet with a fury. He fists pounded into the couch and she howled under the blows. Brad paused to let her catch her breath. “Okay, you made your point. Now let me up. You’re hurting me!”

”I’ll let you up, sure thing,” Brad said in a callous manner, “But first I want to join in with me.”

”Huh?”

”I want to you to say ‘lets go Mets’ with me. Here goes! LETS GO METS!!!” Again Brad emphasized each word by spanking Erin’s sit spot with the brush. Erin did not join in the chant. Instead her body went stiff as a block of wood, her arms shot out at right angles and she screeched like a werewolf in a bad B grade horror movie. Her Yankees baseball cap flew off of her head and landed on the floor at a strange angle.

”No, that’s not what I wanted to hear,” Brad said as Erin’s body relaxed.

Crying, Erin looked back at Brad and said, “Brad, please, no more of this. You had your fun. Let me up!”

”Sure, I want to hear you say ‘lets go Mets’ first. Then I’ll let you up.”

”I can’t say that while you’re hitting me with a hairbrush!”

”Not my problem.” Brad’s voice held no mercy for the poor woman.

”Brad…please. I’m sorry I said all that stuff about the Mets, okay?”

”Yeah, fine. But we need to have you say ‘lets go Mets.’”

”Lets go Mets,” she said weakly. “There I said it, now let me up.

”No, you need to say it like you mean it. Put some feeling into it, woman. Like this! LETS GO METS!” The hairbrush again met Erin’s tender bottom with each word. Her shorts flew off as she bucked and howled on Brad’s lap.

”Ow, ow ow,” she said as her body relaxed again.

”Want to take a minute to think about how you’ll say this with me while I spank you?” Brad asked as he lightly tapped her bottom with the brush.

”Yeah, that would be great. Just let me up and I’ll figure this out.”

”Oh no, you’ll figure it out from where you are! Just let me know when you’re ready.” Brad put the brush down on her back and reached over her for the bottle of Coke he had left on the table. He took a swig, sighed and said “Refreshing. You could probably use a refreshing cool beverage, couldn’t you?”

”Yes!”

”Well, once we get this right, you can have one!” Brad taunted.

”I am sooooo going to get back at you for this!”
”Maybe, but your revenge will come from a standing position, not a sitting one,” Brad said flatly.

After a few minutes, Erin said, “Okay, I think I can do this now, but not so hard, huh?”

”Oh, I don’t know about that. We need the drum session to make this sound right,” Brad’s grin was back in full force.

”You are so dead!”

”Ready?”

”Ready,” she squeaked.

”LETS GO METS!”

Erin barely got through the first word before she broke off into a howling crescendo.

”Well, that didn’t work. We’ll try again, I suppose.” Brad was truly enjoying himself.

”Get this over with!” Erin screeched.

”Okay. Here we go! LETS GO METS!”

This time, Erin managed to get through the entire phrase, although she had to buck and pitch her body the entire time.

”Hmm. Not believable,” Brad said. “We’ll try again. I want you to make me believe you mean it this time.”

”No! Shit! Fuck! Okay!”

”Ready?”

”DO IT! GET THIS OVER WITH!”

”Okay…LETS GO METS!”

Erin got through the entire phrase with her body contorting and her face screwed up in a manner one might not think was humanly possible. But, she got through it.

”THAT’S what I was looking for!” Brad said, grinning from ear to ear.

”You’re letting me up now, right?”

”Oh, yeah, sure.” Brad could not resist the temptation, however, to hold Erin in place while he took another swig of his Coke.

” I guess we’re done here,” he said as he released her.

Erin sprang off his lap and bounced up and down on her bare feet as her hands gingerly nursed her burning backside. Glaring at Brad, she said “You’d better sleep with one eye open tonight, Buster!”

”I always do with you,” Brad shot back.

Erin tried to lift her panties back up, but the garment was so tangled she could not adjust them. She bounced from foot to foot as she struggled to take them off instead.

As she stormed from the room with her feet pounding on the floor, Brad sat back and looked to the ceiling. As he stared straight up, his smile still in place, he said “Thank you, Lord.”

A drawer slammed in the bedroom. “Shit!” Erin’s muffled voice could be heard.

Spreading his arms out across the back of the couch, Brad put his feet up on the coffee table. “Son of a bitch!” Erin yelled in the other room.

Laughing at nothing in particular, Brad spoke to himself. “This was every Mets fan’s dream come true!”


***** The events and characters portrayed in this story are purely fictional. Any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental. Republication or retransmission of this work without the express written consent of the author, Rich “DaChief Flynn, is strictly prohibited. *****