Bases Fully Loaded

A bead of sweat escaped from his helmet-covered head, rolled steadily down the side of his face and easily navigated a layer of day-old scruff. The sweat was able to drip freely as Jack remained fully concentrated while he awaited the 90-mile-per- hour pitch that was about to whip over home plate. The mental focus wasn't wholly necessary; after years of little league, a starring role on his high school team and a full-ride to State, Jack's muscles were capable of reacting on their own. The high arm, easy grip and level swing had become intuitive over the years, and often Jack's body reacted to the fast approaching ball before he even realized it had left the pitcher's hand. Nerves about minor league scouts had him on high alert, however; he had been making a concerted effort to fully engage with every drill and every scrimmage.

As ball met bat, Jack's muscles reverberated from the energy transfer and his arms shook a bit before he kicked up dust heading from first, then quickly rounded the corner to second. His left cleat slid up to the side of the plate just before his friend Thomas managed to tag him on the shoulder; it was a close one, but he was safe.

"Nice, man. You hauled ass getting over here. Keep with that and you'll be picked up by every coach who shows next Friday night."

Jack pushed himself off the ground and positioned himself with one foot on the plate and the other edging out toward third. He glanced at Thomas with what he hoped looked like a casual half grin, and then turned to look at the next batter as he responded.

"Thanks, bro. We have to massacre the visiting team to keep our record, too."

There was a slight catch in his voice, and Jack seriously hoped Thomas was too busy thinking about next Friday to give it much notice. He could chalk it up to scouting nerves getting the best of him, but somewhere in the back of his head, a nagging feeling told him the anxiety had less to do with baseball and more to do with Thomas' ass in his practice uniform. He and Thomas had played ball together for the past three years at State, after Thomas walked on his sophomore year with a surprising amount of talent for someone with so little background in the sport. He hadn't become the best player on the team by any means, but he'd managed to make a real name for himself around the college.

Jack had always admired how laid back Thomas seemed, a stark contrast to his own incredibly disciplined and controlled lifestyle. Oppressive as it may seem to others, his dedication played a significant role in reaching such success in baseball thus far. He only hoped it could carry him to the minors as well. Though he wasn't one much for superstition, Jack refused to let himself ponder the possibilities beyond the minor leagues; he wanted to give himself the best shot, and some part of him believed that imagining anything further than the next few years could jinx his career. For now, he had tunnel vision for a spot on a minor league team.

The players had been given a reprieve and practice finished up unusually early. Coach was in one of his somewhat pleasant, though still predominantly irritated moods and in an uncharacteristically generous move, he let the boys out before 5 pm. Eight hour daily practice had been taking a toll on Jack, and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief with the announcement.

"You boys better be going home to eat and sleep, none of that drinking and shit. Tell your girls your cocks are off limits, and get some shut-eye before your sunrise wake up tomorrow. It's your Saturday run and you can bet your ass that those morning miles will hurt like hell no matter what."

The huddle broke, and Jack eagerly went to grab his mitt before heading to take a long, hot shower. Both his mental and bodily muscles were aching with tension and exertion; a shower would help relax him somewhat.

"Jack, take the bats and water cooler back to the practice shed! That shit won't move itself!" Coach yelled after him before he managed to leave the field, and today everyone had cleared to the locker rooms swiftly thanks to excitement from getting out early. He was the only one in the vicinity, so coach was forcing cleanup on him. Perfect, he thought. All I want to do is take a fucking shower. But I'll do this, got to stay on coach's good side before the next game. Don't need to give him a reason not to let me show the scouts what I've got.

Jack meandered around the field and the dugout, taking his time collecting all the equipment. Coach had already left and the equipment shed had an automatic lock, so no need to rush with to return a key anywhere.

"Hey, you forgot these." Thomas appeared with a stack of orange cones that had been used to do footwork drills earlier in the afternoon, the forgotten equipment stuck between bleacher seats.

"I thought everyone left the second coach called off practice. I turn around one second later and not only is everyone gone, but I'm left with cleanup duty." Jack said this with a playful tone; he didn't want Thomas to think he didn't know how to do some of the dirty work. He was tired, but he also knew when to pull his weight. And for some unknowable reason, Jack felt an urge to make a good impression with Thomas. They'd always been buddies, but in recent weeks he'd paid a little bit of extra attention to what Thomas said to him, and Jack was especially sensitive to what he might be thinking about him.

"Let me help, I have my car here so I might as well give you a ride back. And Lisa has a big project due, she'll probably be at the library most of the night, so I don't have anywhere I really need to be." Lisa was Thomas' girlfriend since he got to campus; she gorgeous, with long blonde hair and the roundest ass on campus thanks to her cycling obsession. It made sense to Jack; Thomas was a really good-looking guy. Wavy blonde hair to match Lisa's, though is stopped around his ears. It was long enough that he was always flipping it out of his cool blue eyes, Jack noticed. He was clean-shaven most of the time, and his 6 foot two athletic physique made him a noticeable figure on campus. Though Jack was equally as appreciated by his co-eds; he was tan after a summer of baseball training, but his jet-black hair stayed dark no matter what. A day or two of scruff usually coated his face, and sometimes the occasional beard when he was feeling too lazy to pick up a razor- it never stayed around for too long. As a chubby kid in his early high school years, Jack was still a little body conscious once in a while, but he had long since dropped his baby fat and his relationship with baseball and the gym kept his muscular body intact. His strong jaw and his thick eyebrows hinted at some Middle Eastern background he didn't possess, but his face was striking nonetheless.

"Come on, we can make it in one trip if you throw the bats into the bag. I'll grab the water coolers," Thomas called out as he kept the tower of orange cones snugly between his hip and his arm. Jack dumped the bats into the duffel and threw them over his shoulder, jogging to catch up to Thomas as they crossed the outfield heading toward the shed. Given how tall he was and how long his stride was, Jack only managed to make it to Thomas as they entered the shed.

"That goes on the top shelf over in the corner. Do you need help with the coolers?" Jack leaned in as he asked, his arm lightly brushing Thomas' rounded bicep that could be felt through the thin uniform.

"Nah, I got it. Just make sure you put the bats in the locker or else coach will have a minor panic attack that will result in us running an extra five sets of sprints tomorrow." Thomas chuckled when he noticed Jack shudder at his words.

"Aw stop man, you know I'm just messing," Thomas offered, dusting his hands off after relieving himself of the cooler and the cones.

"Dude, I know. But just the thought of tomorrow's run is enough to make my leg muscles pound and ache. I need a serious break if I'm going to do anything worth noticing next Friday." Jack could feel his nerves beginning to take over again, but as Thomas moved to join him on the other side of the shed, he knew that his racing heart had nothing to do with baseball and everything to do with the blonde haired, blue eyed mass of muscle that was quickly approaching.

"You're going to be fine, you just need to find a way to relax for a second. I know that' s not exactly your forte, but it'll do wonders for you mental and physical health. You need some balance, Jack. But come here, let me see if this will help." Walking around Jack, Thomas placed one hand on the sweet spot between Jack's shoulder and his neck, while the other palmed a baseball that he beginning moving in slow circles around Jack's lower back. Jack could feel the pressure hitting knots and couldn't hold back a sigh of pleasure as the baseball began to break them up. Thomas' other had had started gently massaging, moving closer to his neck every few rounds of kneading.

"Holy hell, are you a professional? This shit is unreal, it's like you know exactly where my muscles need it the most," Jack acknowledged, though he realized immediately after he said it that maybe there was a little too much excitement in his voice.

"I mean, you know, just..." He stuttered, looking for a suitable way to regain some composure, but he was interrupted by the migration of Thomas's hands. The baseballs was still slowly working out knots in his back, but Thomas's left hand had moved further down Jack's body, and instead of massaging his neck had gone to work on Jack's rounded ass.

Jack wasn't sure if Thomas knew what he was doing, but he was too aroused to say anything to disrupt him. The two baseball players stood in absolute silence; Jack trying to mentally tamp down his slowly rising cock which Thomas diligently massaged him. Without a word, Jack broke contact and swiveled around to face Thomas, expecting to see his usual playful expression. Instead, Thomas was staring directly at Jack with a look of intense hunger, one that both terrified and excited Jack in a way he didn't think possible.

Thomas wasn't startled by Jack turning around; instead, he took the motion in stride, and started lightly rolling the baseball in his hand over Jack's cock, the soft pressure and the friction of the thin material turning him hard in a matter of seconds. Jack could only watch as Thomas slid his fingers into the waistband of Jack's pants, un-tucking his shirt and sliding his fingers over Jack's well-defined abdomen. His touch was gentle and explorative, grazing over the ridges of muscle and then threading his fingers through Jack's generous patch of chest hair. He quickly changed directions, however, moving down and carefully dragging off Jack's pants along the way.

At this point, Jack's cock was free from its spandex prison, and the thickness stood fully with the most intense erection Jack had ever experienced. As he knelt to the floor, Thomas slid one hand down Jack's shaft toward his balls, and used the other to continue massaging with the baseball. The pressure shifted from Jack's cock to his thigh, Thomas almost smiling with the teasing movement. But then he rolled the baseball between Jack's balls and his asshole, while simultaneous sliding the entirety of Jack's thick cock into his wet mouth.

Jack almost blew his entire load at the very moment, the different sensations he felt at the hands of this sweaty, sexy man almost too much for him to control. Pumping up and down the shaft, Thomas continued to massage Jack's taint while his tongue flicked mercilessly around the head and on the underside of Jack's cock. Jack could feel his cock pulsating in Thomas's mouth, and he was holding back a growing urge to ram himself in and out as fast as he could move.

Suddenly, Thomas abandoned his post on the floor and momentarily disappeared from, though he returned before Jack could start to panic. He had grabbed a thin wooden bat, a novelty item that the team had sold for a fundraiser a few years back. A few dozen extra bats had cluttered the bottom shelves of the equipment shed, but Thomas had dusted off one, using his pants to clear off any grime. He moved to a shaking, still rock hard Jack. Instead of getting back on his knees, however, he stood behind Jack. After taking a second to suck on his index finger, Thomas separated Jack's ass cheeks and started to slowly enter him from behind, his other hand gently working Jack's shaft again.

"I'm going to come, this is too much, I don't know how to calm down," Jack whispered as Thomas began sliding his slick finger in and out of Jack's asshole.

"Get on your knees and put your tongue of my ass," Thomas directed. His voice was almost cold, but Jack detected strains of desire and he quickly knelt down behind Thomas, and willingly started around the rim of Thomas's asshole. It was a taste that began as unfamiliar but quickly became delectable, something he wanted to taste more of immediately. He stuck his entire tongue in Thomas's ass, while his hands worked and kneaded the sculpted ass checks on either side of his face. Hungry still and ever curious, Jack shuffled around and ripped down Thomas's pants just before he managed to swallow Thomas's cock into his waiting mouth. The head was soft and velvety, and Jack worked up the shaft before paying special attention, the taste only stiffening his own cock further. His tongue swiveled and swept around the head, and Thomas's grunting only caused Jack to slide his tongue around even faster.

Wordlessly, Thomas grabbed Jack by the shoulders, flipped him around and pushed him up against the wooden wall. He found the previously abandoned wooden bat, and slid about half of it into his mouth, before he began to slowly work it up Jack's ass. It hurt a little at first, but Jack quickly got used to having the bat inside of him, though the burst of pleasure and slight pain he felt when Thomas began moving it in and out surprised him.

"It's so good," Jack mumbled into the wall. He wasn't even sure Thomas heard him, so his next sentence was spoken clearly to make sure he would take notice.

"I want your cock inside me. Take out the bat, and slide into me." Thomas stopped mid-pump, and bit Jack hard on the neck, eliciting a small yelp of pleasurable surprise. He threw down the bat, and pinned Jack against the wall by his wrists above jack's head. One hand held Jack firmly to the wall, while the other was used to guide his cock into Jack's asshole.

Jack began to feel extreme satisfaction tempered by an underlying pain as Thomas penetrated him from behind, beginning slowly at first to loosen him up. After a few minutes to warm them both up, Thomas quickly gained speed, pounding into Jack while he reached around and gripped Jack's erection from the front. Jack could only focus on the unreal sensations of being fucked in the ass while his dick was played with, the even strokes matching the speedy rhythm that Thomas used to bounce towards and away Jack's body.

After another few minutes, Jack sprayed his load all over the wall of the equipment shed. He had held out for as long as possible, but the overwhelming urge for release finally got to him, and he let himself fall over the edge of desire. Thomas finished seconds later, and slowly slid his cock out of Jack's ass, accompanied by a trickle of semen that began to seep out. As his hands fell back down to his sides, Thomas spun around Jack, and the players were staring at one another, their faces only inches apart. His strong lips delivered an unexpectedly soft kiss, the silken skin of Thomas's cheek rubbing against jack's prickly hair. Shoving his legs into his pants and grabbing his shirt, Thomas left without saying anything; the kiss was his goodbye. Jack was dumbfounded; he almost felt that he had dreamt that the Thomas had fucked him. Gathering his things, he slowly got dressed and shut the equipment room door. He wasn't sure he would ever mind cleaning up the field after a long practice ever again.