"Coach won't like a beanball war." There won't be any beanball wars," she said firmly. "Trust me."I went and fetched the coach. He was skeptical, too.... "There will not be a beanball war," Lily maintained. "I absolutely promise. I will not throw at him. But I want to pitch to him."The coach agreed.A couple batters later, Lily came out and took the hill. "OK, Sinclair, time to hit," the coach said. He strode up there, all cocky. I went out and took over for Brady."What, are you going to try to hit. Their instructions were to establish covert surveillance and to record any comings and goings. If there was any chance of gaining access to the premises without being seen, they were authorised to do so. The pair had already been in place for a day and a half but hadn't uncovered anything useful so far.Kenny was still at the early stages of working through the messages on the memory stick. In four days he had worked through over four hundred of them - studying the detail of what he had been. I was a terrible cook and I knew it, as did my boyfriend whom I found somehow always managed to have already eaten when he came home from work at night when he knew I would be making him something. He always joked with me how terrible of a mother I would be if we had children together. A joke, I hoped, would never become a reality. I was awful at house chores and if asked what the difference was between a mop and a broom I wouldn’t be able to tell you. Luckily, we were fortunate enough to have. Leaning back, uncaring for the cold as her back pressed to the wall, she looked down at the boy, his cheeks bulging and she felt herself smirk, the boy was holding her mouthful of cum, unsure what to do with it. “Well..” she said with a smirk, “you could’ve spat it out as I was cumming and I wouldn’t have known. But now, if you don’t swallow, I’ll be pissed off.” He blushed and hesitated, she laughed. “The longer you hesitate, slut, the longer you get to taste it.” His blush deepening she saw.