Prelude
I'm not exactly sure when I first sexualized baseball, but one of my earliest memories of it is this. I was taken to my first major league game at around age eleven by my much older sister's husband. I suspect he agreed to take me, not because he liked me or had any paternal feelings for me, but did so grudgingly simply to appease his wife, my sister. I was growing up without any male figures in my home. My father died years earlier, and my older brother was away in the service. My mother and sister were concerned that I was identifying too much with them, or to put it as I once overheard my mother say, I don't want him growing up to be a fag. I think you get the picture.
No sooner were we seated in the stadium, than I said I needed to pee. My brother-in-law was extremely annoyed at the thought of having to get up and escort me. Instead, he responded gruffly that I was old enough to find it by myself and I'd better not get lost because he was not going to come looking for me. I was relieved to get away from him.
I found the men's room quickly, but it was overwhelmingly crowded. When my turn came to pee, I hesitatingly turned my head and looked to the left at the long line of men standing in front of open urinals. The variety of shapes, sizes, and colors of penises was mesmerizing. I couldn't stop myself from staring. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't help it. Within seconds my little boy cock was rock hard. I didn't know what to do. I had had boners before but none like this. Being with all these men with exposed penises was a new and exciting experience for me. There was something naughty and forbidden brewing inside me. Its magnetism was so powerful it kept me glued there for several minutes beyond a reasonable pee time. I felt an overwhelming urge to want to stay and observe every single penis, drink them in with my eyes, memorize them all, but I knew I had to get back or risk being on the receiving end of a stinging verbal lashing from my brother-in-law. Luckily the men I was ogling didn't seem to notice me, and I didn't feel any embarrassment at all until a boy around my age came next to me. I could tell by the puzzled look on his face as he stared at me, holding my boner that he might say something aloud or tell on me. I shoved my erection back into my pants and hightailed it back to my seat. Of course, my brother-in-law was angry that I was gone so long. I didn't care, though, and I ended up going back to the men's room three more times before we left!
One afternoon a few weeks later, I found myself home alone with nothing to do. I went into my older brother's bedroom. All of his sports trophies and awards were still on display just as they had been when he left home four years prior. He enlisted in the service upon graduation from high school, and except for occasional dusting, my mother hadn't touched a thing in his room since. She told me with some frequency to stay out, and don't you be messing with your brother's belongings. So naturally, it was the first place I went on days such as this one.
I held up his biggest baseball trophy and imagined, while staring at myself in the mirror, what it must feel like to be honored and adored. I think I might have bowed to the roar of the crowd and then held it up above my head in triumph. Next, I opened his underwear and sock drawer. I was immediately drawn to his jockstrap. I picked it up, felt the elastic fabric thoroughly, and then made a fist and put it in the pouch. The pouch seemed so big. I wondered if I would be able to fill it. Before I knew it, my pants and underwear were off, and I was trying on my brother's jock. It was too large of course, but feeling my naked penis inside the same pouch that my brother had occupied gave me an instant erection. I picked up his baseball bat leaning in the corner and rubbed and pressed it against my hard dick, pushing my erection to one side and then watching it spring back. It felt so good I couldn't stop. I stood in front of the mirror, let my cock slide out, and continued rubbing it with the bat. I went faster and faster until...what the fuck? A massive gush of creamy white liquid shot out of my penis. I had no idea what just happened except that it felt amazing. I also knew that I had better clean it up and fast. My ears were stinging with guilty pleasure as I wiped off the bat and the couple of splatters that had hit the hardwood floor. I hid the jockstrap in my room and masturbated three more times before I fell asleep that night, each time either wearing the jockstrap or rubbing it on my cum-soaked dick. The third time I held the jock to my nose and sniffed the aroma of my own semen. That turned out to be the best orgasm of all!
College Roommate
As Fate would have it, my college roommate turned out to be on the baseball team, fulfilling my every roommate fantasy. Unfortunately, Fate had also decided to make him straight and somewhat aloof, not unfriendly, just reserved. The two of us shared a dingy, poorly lit room in one of the oldest buildings on campus. A place I am convinced was designed initially as a single. It might not have been so bad had my roommate not been such a slob. His belongings were scattered across the floor in piles everywhere. I tried to keep his things off my side by creating and maintaining an invisible border. Our room looked like a ying-yang symbol most of the time, and what's more, Anthony, my roommate, was hardly ever there. He spent most the time at his girlfriend's place off-campus. He mostly made appearances before or during baseball practices and games, and when it was exam time.
It was a weekend when practically everyone had gone somewhere. Most students went back to their homes or off to vacation. I chose to stay on campus. I was sitting in our tiny dorm room staring at Anthony's mess deliberating about whether or not to clean it up. My wiser self said, no, don't touch a thing, but my control freak side was already rummaging through a pile of dirty clothes. From under a t-shirt, I discovered a pair of well-soiled socks and a jockstrap. The strap was still moist to the touch, so without thinking, I brought it to my nose and inhaled its ripeness. My pants and underwear were soon down around my ankles. I reached for the socks and captured a third prize; Anthony's protective cup. In seconds I had a glob of vaseline in my left hand. I sat on the edge of my bed, draped one of the dirty socks around the base of my fully rigid penis, and slathered my cock with grease. As I leaned back against the wall with my legs spread apart about as far as I could get them (what with my pants still around my ankles) and alternated inhaling the scents of his jockstrap and cup. I was very deep into my bate and I believe I had just started to lick the inside of the cup when surprise! The door opened.
Any efforts I might have made to cover my situation would have been futile. My feet were essentially bound together at the ankles by my pants and underwear. There was just no hiding. Anthony stood paralyzed, staring at me with wide eyes and furrowed brow as if to say, what the fuck? After a few seconds, he turned his back to me and spoke forcefully.
"Sorry, but what the hell, man?"
I was rendered speechless. I was literally caught with my pants down. I fumbled on a few words, but nothing coherent emerged from my mouth. Still, with Anthony's back to me, he extended his arm and pointed vigorously at his side of the room.
"If that is my stuff, put it all back where you found it. I'm gonna just fucking pretend I didn't see any of this. Just put it back."
Then he left slamming the door behind him.
I was not crying exactly, but I was frightened that he might report me, or something. I put everything back and decided it would be best if I left the room for several hours. Before exiting, I wrote an apology note and placed it on Anthony's bed. In the space of ten minutes, I went from ecstasy to despair.
The next month went by quietly. Thankfully, Anthony did not report me. He was also true to his word and never made mention of the scene again, though we barely had any eye contact or conversation during those weeks.
It was a rainy weekday and, as usual, I was alone in our room. I awoke late that morning and staring down at the floor my eyes became focused on something right next to my bed. It appeared to be an old baseball jersey. Anthony's clutter was infiltrating my space again, I thought to myself. Pissed, I got up and tossed it back onto his side of the room. As soon as I released it from my hand, I realized I had griped something wet. I examined my fingers. It felt thick and a little sticky. Gross! I thought, did he blow his nose on that shirt? Yuck! But a second examination changed my mind. I brought my hand to my face.
No denying it, it was semen. I instantly retrieved the jersey and inspected it thoroughly. He had definitely used it as cum rag! But why was it next to my bed? My cock was already achingly hard as I yanked my briefs off and started to stroke. I spread the jersey across my belly and fingered the sticky residue Anthony had left there. I knew I was going to cum fast. I brought my fingers to my nose again and then to my lips. I gently licked the tips of my fingers and got a satisfying taste of Anthony's jizz. Within seconds I was squirting jets of cum. The first shot hit my chin, but the rest landed squarely on the jersey. As soon as I regained awareness of where I was and what I was doing, I bunched the shirt up in a ball and tossed it back to Anthony's side of the room.
A week later, I was coming back to our room for a quick rest after an especially tiring economics exam. Every step up to the third floor felt like an extreme effort and an eternity. I was in a mid-yawn as I opened the door. I knew Anthony would not be back anytime soon, and I looked longingly at my bed and pillow in hopes of a nice long nap. The jersey was back on the floor near my bed. My heart raced, and adrenaline surged through me. So much for tiredness! I threw my books on my desk and made a beeline for the shirt. Fresh cum had been planted recently. When? I thought. Anthony had not been in the dorm for two days. Game on! I said to myself and decided to go for it. I undressed quickly as my cock throbbed in anticipation. I wanted more assistance this time than just the jersey, so I rummaged through a pile of clothes and found some dirty socks whose scent was perfectly aged. Then I opened Anthony closet. A couple of baseball bats were leaning against the wall. I had instant recall of my first orgasm.
My balls were actually aching as I picked up the smoothest bat of the two. Feeling my hard penis rubbing against it brought everything back. I was eleven again. I saw images of my brother naked, also my uncle Ed. I closed my eyes and let the trance take hold. With the bat in hand, I pulled my cock to one side and then made it spring back, over and over, all the while remembering the many times I had successfully planned elaborate spy capers in hopes of catching my brother and uncle in various states of undress or toweling of from their showers. Since, in reality, I was no longer eleven years old, I knew I would need more stimulation in order to orgasm, I repeated the masturbation procedure I had enacted when I first found the jersey; I sat down on the edge of my bed, leaned back with my legs wide open, and placed the shirt on my belly. For variation, I wore one of the found socks on my left hand like a glove and stroked my penis with it. Damn, did that feel good? Again, I delivered a load of cum on the jersey, rolled it up and tossed it back to Anthony's side of the room.
A pattern seemed to be established. Every few days the jersey would show up next to my bed. Nothing, not a word, was ever spoken about it, mainly because I rarely saw Anthony. The covertness of it was more tantalizing than anything that had ever happened to me before. Where was it all going? I had no idea. All I knew was it fucking hot, and the jersey was starting to become stiff with a build-up of our combined, dried cum. Then as suddenly as it began, it stopped.
Anthony burst into the room one day, sometime after the jersey incidents, voicing distress about his upcoming algebra exam. He asked if I could please help him.
"I thought you told me that this class was a breeze for you?"
"Well, it is. I mean, it was. I mean, I just gotta practice these proofs or I'm in trouble. Can you please help me?"
How could I resist? This was the most friendliness Anthony had ever expressed toward me. Of course, it was a favor to him, but it felt like reaching out, and I liked that feeling. I pulled my chair over next to him and started to explain. Anthony pulled closer until our legs touched. It was hard for me to concentrate on anything being so distracted by the sensation of his thigh rubbing against mine. I persevered while trying not to give my stiffening crotch any additional encouragement.
"Oh, I see, I see, yes. I think I get it again. Thank you, buddy!"
Buddy? Did he just call me, buddy? I'm not sure why, but that word alone caused a full on boner.
"Hey Paul, really, I mean it, thank you so much. You saved my fucking ass."
Any thought of Anthony's ass was more imagery than I could handle. I felt my cheeks burning.
"Okay, Paul, how can I repay you?"
"You don't owe me anything, Anthony. It's a favor. Forget about it."
"No way! You deserve a reward. What's it gonna be?"
After much protesting on my part, Anthony told me to think about it and that he would be back in a few minutes. He grabbed his backpack and left the room.
Odd, I thought, why would he need a backpack to visit the men's room? I reached in my pants and adjusted my cramped hard-on, which was already leaking a bit of pre-cum. I pulled my hand out and licked my wet fingers. The taste of semen always gets me horny as hell. I said to myself, what the fuck am I doing? Have you lost your mind? Still, I could not release the memory of the jersey exchange or deny the sexually charged atmosphere Anthony had created. Not I, but Anthony!
Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Anthony entered the room, garbed in a baseball uniform.
"Well, what do you think of the new uniform?" He asked, brightly.
"Yeah, great. Looks good." My heart was pounding so hard I was sure it must have audible to Anthony, too.
"I don't know. I think I got the wrong pant size. Look here, too big in the waist and too tight in the crotch and ass."
He twisted his butt toward me. I became aware that my mouth was agape, and I was hoping that my tongue had not rolled like the wolf in those cartoons whenever there's a little piggy in sight.
"Now if I take the cup out, it feels a little better, but what the fuck good is that? I can't play without a cup!"
He reached in his pants and pulled out the cup and tossed it on the bed. When he removed the cup, he must have also released his penis from the jockstrap because the shape and length of his cock were most evident through the thin pant material. I did a slight doubling over sitting in my chair as an effort to conceal my raging hard-on.
"So, Paul, did you think of your reward yet?"
The words came slowly and slightly choked, but I bravely forced them from my throat. "I think I just got it."
Anthony was looking directly into my eyes when he gave his reply.
"Oh, yeah? Well, I think it could be a lot bigger."
I was transfixed as I watched the bulge in Anthony's groin growing larger by the second.
"Why don't you help me out of these?" He said with a sly sexy smile on his face.
I rose from the seat and stood facing Anthony. I was so surprised to see how much taller I was. I tentatively reached forward felt his stiffening member.
"Let's get fucking naked."
From that minute forward, nothing seemed real. We simultaneously dropped our pants down to our ankles. Anthony's cock had girth and a beautiful upward banana curve. It looked so sexy, projecting from his thick, black bush. I could barely see the skin on his legs because they were so furry. My cock was sticking nearly straight out in front. It was so rock hard that the slight downward curve my erection usually has, was almost gone. Anthony reached out, took hold of my dick.
"Jesus, man, that is one fucking monster."
I couldn't speak. My words were trapped in my throat. Instead, I cupped his fur-covered balls in my palm. He moaned in pleasure at my touch.
"You know, Paul, you stirred something up in me that I thought was dead. But when I saw you jerking that big dick of yours, and holding my stuff up to your face, well...it's all I've been able to think about since. I tried to tell you once, but instead, I decided to let the jersey exchange do the talking for me."
It was like a race to see who could get their clothes off first. Anthony sat down before I had a chance. He put a big paw on each side of my slender hips, held me firm, and then swallowed my cock. I was gasping. My knees felt weak. He buried the entire length of my erect eight and a half inch penis deep in his throat like an expert. This could not be his first time sucking cock!
"Come on, Paul, get down here. Get your mouth on my rod."
We somehow managed a sixty-nine position, though there was definitely not enough space on the small bed to perform it comfortably. We were on our sides. My head was resting on Anthony's inner thigh. He was holding his other leg in the air like a male dog about to mark his territory. His cock was so thick I could barely fit it in my mouth. I licked his balls and buried my face in his bush, savoring his man stink. Anthony pulled my cock out of his mouth and instructed me to stick my finger in his ass.
"My girlfriend won't get near my butthole. I fucking love having a finger in there."
I said I'd be happy to oblige but that it would probably be better to change positions. I got up and told Anthony to stay seated on the bed. I went down on my knees in front of him and raised his legs in the air. He chanted a chorus of "fuck yeah, man, that's it, do it, man," over and over. I wetted my finger and felt his tightly puckered sphincter. I slowly inserted the tip of my finger into its soft, moist darkness, played around there for a few seconds and then pushed it in all the way. I held his right leg up in the air with one hand, which he seemed to love. I pulled out my finger and reinserted two. His hips were wriggling and writhing as I finger fucked his ass hole. With my digits still buried deep inside him, I took hold of his penis and jerked it vigorously. Anthony responded with wild thrashings and much guttural moaning. I could feel an orgasm coming, so I bent down and put his cock in my mouth. A moment later he shot hot streams of cum down my throat. I started to gag. I slid my mouth off his cock and a giant cum bubble formed between my lips and the head of his dick the size of a small fishbowl.
"Holy fuck! That was fucking amazing. Christ, Paul! Thank you man."
It was my turn now. I stood in front of Anthony again. He deep-throated my cock and drank every last drop of the cum I fired into his hot, wet mouth.
We sat on the bed naked and drained, knee-to-knee, playing with our dicks and telling stories about our sexual past. Turns out Anthony had quite a bit more experience with man-to-man sex than I had. He said he was always attracted to both men and women, and even though he considered himself straight, he enjoyed his time with a penis more. He said men just seem to know how to satisfy one another better. I could only agree in theory because I had never had any sexual experiences with women. I said I just knew what I liked and wanted. When I told him about my life-long fantasies of having sex with my brother and uncle, we both got hard again and masturbated into the wee hours. Just as we were both getting close to climaxing, Anthony opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the jersey. We laughed as we decorated it with our sperm one last time as it turned out. Our school was over the following week, and Anthony gave me the jersey as a souvenir.
It was so great to have a friend with whom I could just be myself, no pretending, no hiding, no shame. My own baseball buddy!
Epilogue
Sadly, the jersey got washed accidentally when I got home. I can only imagine what my mother must have thought when she saw it!