One taste of pitcher Derek Conway's asshole was all it took for Sergeant Thomas John Bullen to realize there was nothing better than eating baseball player butt.
' That's it, Sarge - chow on his asshole!' the jock with the backwards-turned ball cap and the four-alarm grin urged. Bull looked up briefly to see the hunger in thirty-seven-year-old Jeff Brunson's eyes for another view of Conway's twenty-year-old ass. ' Eat him good, Bull!'
Bull's tongue tingled with the funky, sweaty musk of the nine innings of Army sandlot hardball they'd all just played.
' Yeah,' growled the fourth man in the living room. ' Starting pitcher's got a bad ass.' Finley, the Army jock with the cast on his leg, struggled for a look, too. His ruggedly-handsome face was frozen in a game scowl reminiscent of many Bull had seen out on the playing field that night. ' Gimme a go at that fucker's shithole!'
Bull ran his tongue over Derek's musty pucker for another taste before the younger jock complied with Sarge Finley's request, planting his pitcher's butt on the injured man's unshaven face. Bull sucked in a deep hit of the male-smelling air and licked his lips. The stink and sweat of baseball and baseball players infused the living room of Jeff Brunson's home on the outskirts of Phoenix.
So far, Derek was the only one who'd shed his baseball uniform. Size Thirteen cleats, white uniform pants and shirt with black pinstripes and the plastic nut cup pulled off in haste lay in a swampy pile on the floor. Stripped down to his socks, stirrups, and the dirty gray jockstrap that framed his ass showcased the perfection of Derek's body - his chest, smooth except for a happy trail of dark blond pelt, his strong, hairy legs, and that incredible square butt.
As Bull watched, Finley lapped and chewed on the young pitcher's sweaty asshole, stopping between tastes for a swig from the half-open bottle of beer in his free hand. At one point, Finley tipped the bottle's neck between Derek's fuzz-covered butt cheeks. The jolt of cold beer over his hot asshole made the young pitcher seize in place, but Finley held him close enough to drink the amber rivulet that cut the twenty-year-old from his crack down to his jock-covered nuts.
' Damn, dude,' Jeff huffed. ' Why'd you go and ruin the taste of a perfectly-good jock butt with cheap beer like that?'
Finley chuckled and flashed their host a middle finger. The sergeant's pumped arms - one bearing a tattoo of his Army unit's name in dark green numbers - relaxed. He tugged at the moist fabric of Derek's nut-holder, pulling it aside. Then Finley extended a high-five toward Jeff as two hairy, come-packed low-hangers fell into view between the pitcher's spread legs.
' Fuck,' Jeff sighed, a surly grin on his handsome face. Leaning down and putting his head beside Finley's, the older Army jock who'd covered left field for the baseball team took a tentative lick of Derek's fat balls. For the next few minutes, Finley and Jeff alternated between the pitcher's hole and sac, stopping only to exchange kisses heavy with the taste of the young ball jock's musk.
Bull reached down and unzipped the uniform pants he'd borrowed from Finley. The other man's cup, also on loan, barely fit Bull's cock soft, and with his bone stiffened, it felt more like a bottle cap on his dick than protective gear. A quick flip and his cup joined Derek's on the floor. His tool thus freed, Bull pumped the meaty lump in his jock and returned his focus to the action. The company - and view - couldn't have been better.
While Jeff sucked on Derek's horse nuts, Finley cored the young pitcher's asshole with his tongue. The bulge in Bull's borrowed jockstrap quickly filled to its potential, a fact not lost on Jeff. The handsome veteran, three years junior to both Bull and Finley, spit out Derek's nuts and grinned over his shoulder.
' You just gonna stand there, Sarge, or you gonna get a piece of this hot young fuck?'
Bull felt up his package one more time, flashed a smile back just as sexy, and rounded the wall of bodies to stand in front of the twenty-year-old Army jock who'd incited them all into such frenzy. Derek Conway's face was as cute as they came - lazy blue eyes, a dumb smile peppered with one day's growth of scuzz, and a pouty mouth that just begged to be donged.
He's Jason's age, Bull thought, hesitating a moment longer. My son's probably as beautiful, as manly as this dude. If he's got my genes in him, he likes baseball, too. Fuck, Derek could be my son. But he's not..
Derek licked his lips and reached the big southpaw he'd been hurling fastballs with toward the sweaty tent in Bull's jock. The electric sensation at contact pushed Bull to the tops of his toes in a borrowed pair of baseball cleats.
' That's it, boy,' Bull growled. ' Get out that cock and show it some respect!'
Derek moaned, ' Yes, sir!' and complied. A quick fumble yanked the soiled jock down. Bull's fat eight incher and his own set of juiced balls popped out of cover and into the young Army jock's face. Derek wasted no time choking up on the shaft of Bull's cock, handling it like a bat. One at a time, the Sarge's perspiration-drenched nuts vanished into the young pitcher's mouth.
' Aw, shit-!' Bull grunted. He knocked the ball cap off Derek's head and pulled him closer, running the fingers of one hand through his hair. ' Yeah, swallow my fuckin' nuts!'
Eyes half-shut, Bull studied the handsome face making love to his sac. It was easy to see why Jeff and Finley had been eyeballing the new recruit for months. Both veterans had gotten more than they'd imagined - the wet slurping noises from between Derek's legs made it clear all would leave the post-game celebration satisfied.
And to think six hours earlier, reaching San Diego had been the only thing on Bull's mind..
A visit with a cousin he hadn't seen in twenty years took him through Nevada. The heat in this part of the country made day travel impossible, so for a week, he'd only hopped on the Harley in the late afternoon. Nights were made for riding the highway. Daytime meant catching up on sleep and plotting his next course to the West Coast. One bonus about this kind of travel he hadn't figured upon was getting the best tan he'd ever seen. These late afternoons riding through the Southwest dressed in shorts, no socks, boots and his helmet had bronzed his body to perfection.
The stadium lights off Highway Three-Eleven alerted him to the presence of something he'd missed since the arrival of good weather - a baseball game. Like the dictates of his own travels, he knew it was way too hot to play baseball here during daylight hours. Bull loved the sport more than any other, and if a game was just starting, he couldn't pass up the chance to take it in. He figured he had to be pretty close to the Army base, but didn't equate the two as having any connection until he pulled over and saw the home team's players shagging balls in the outfield. Each was buzzcut and ripped - pumped arms, taught stomachs, and high, service-toughened asses. This was no team of softball beer guts.
By the time Bull arrived, the sparse crowd was just filtering in. He figured most of the baseball faithful gathered in the bleachers were wives or girlfriends of the team. A handful of jarheads dressed in T-shirts and camouflage pants reinforced his guess about the team's origins.
This was Army sandlot baseball at its best.
He made his way down through the stands until he reached the empty seats in front of the home team's dugout. Most of the players looked like seasoned vets, ranging in age, he guessed, from their late twenties to thirties. All were outfitted in fresh white pinstriped home uniforms that hugged their hard bodies. Some old-school players wore their black stirrups on the outside of their socks.
Bull felt his heart quicken pace. There was nothing like sitting back on a lazy summer day and taking in a game of hardball, even an amateur outing. The only things missing were hot dogs and cold beer.
Black shades in place, Bull kicked his booted feet onto the dugout roof and leaned back to ponder the events that had led him so far from home. It had been a long, slow journey, but that was the plan - to see old friends and what little family he had scattered from one coast to the other, and to see the country while catching up on twenty lost years. Finding Jason, his son, that was what mattered most. Still, nine innings of baseball would be a nice break from the road.
Trapped in these thoughts, Bull didn't realize he was being watched until a flash of pinstriped white caught the corner of his eyes.
' Hey, you-!' a handsome-faced jock grinned from beneath a pair of similar black sunglasses. Bull quickly pegged the ball jock at somewhere in his mid to late thirties, with buzzed brown hair silvered slightly above the ears and a Cheshire cat's smile. At first he couldn't be sure whom the man was talking to, but a quick glance to both sides revealed Bull was alone in this section of the bleachers. ' Yeah, you!'
Bull pulled down his feet. ' Me?'
' Yup. Hustle your butt down here. Need to ask you a favor.'
Bull noticed a black Captain's C stitched on the arms of the ball jock's uniform. Shrugging, he trudged to the bottom of the stairs and onto the dusty ground beside the dugout. ' Whassup?'
' You service?'
Bull nodded. ' Sergeant Thomas Bullen. Army Ranger, out of North Carolina.'
' I knew it!' the ball jock exclaimed excitedly. He extended a big bear paw of a hand. Bull accepted. They shook. ' You play?'
' Hardball?' Bull grunted, tipping his gaze into the dugout. An assortment of buff bodies in pinstriped baseball uniforms met his eyes. Among them sat a man dressed in a pair of workout shorts, a tank top that showed off the perfection of two bulging, tattooed arms and furry pits, a white sock and sneaker on one leg, a cast from the knee down on the other. ' Hell yeah. Bit rusty, though.'
' I don't care if you're rustier than a bunch of nails, dude. I need a body out there. We ain't got a centerfielder. Finley over there..' He aimed a hand toward the one man out of uniform on the bench. ' Busted up his leg. We're down a man and could use somebody like you to fill in.'
The offer kept Bull's smile in place. ' Me? Don't you got any utility players for backup?'
' Sarge, this is a pickup baseball league, not the major leagues. Come on - I'm begging you.'
Bull studied the chiseled face on level with his own, then stole another view of the dugout, where a tall, young jock was bent over and stretching, showing one of the best-looking butts Bull had ever seen. When he glanced back, he caught Jeff staring at the young jock, too. Despite the wedding ring on his finger, Bull realized Jeff was checking out the other man's can!
That sealed it.
' Sure I'll play, but I don't have a uniform.'
' That ain't a problem,' Jeff said with a spirited hoot, obviously happy with Bull's decision. ' What are you, thirty-four waist?'
Jeff focused on Bull's feet. ' Cleat size?'
Whistling out a cool puff of relief, Jeff said, ' This is almost too good to believe. Finley's uniform and cleats should fit you.'
With that decided upon, the team's captain walked Bull over. His first introduction came to the young ball jock they'd both been sizing up a moment earlier. ' This is Private Derek Conway, our starting pitcher.'
Bull extended his glove hand in a fist, knuckle's out. The startlingly handsome young pitcher tapped his to Bull's in a respectful gesture. ' Good to have you onboard, Sir.'
' Back at you,' Bull growled.
Jeff next pulled him over to the dude with the broken leg. ' Sergeant Bullen, meet our usual Centerfielder, Sergeant Deke Finley.'
' Call me Bull,' he said. The two jocks and soldiers shook with enough strength to shatter the hands of lesser men.
' You're gonna need a glove,' Finley said, his voice a deep baritone. ' My spare's over there with the uniform, and my bats are marked with my number.'
Bull peeled off his shades. As fast as things were moving, he felt exhilarated by the offer to play a good, nut-busting nine innings of baseball surrounded by these men. ' I promise not to get it too stinky or dirty,' he chuckled.
Finley shook his head and snarled, ' Better really stink it up, dude. If you're playing in my place, you best return it looking like you made something happen out there.'
Bull nodded and tipped his chin respectively. ' Let's do it, then.'
Jeff directed him to a bathroom at the back of the dugout. A minute later, Bull had shucked off his ball cap, shirt, boots, and shorts. His tight-whites followed, leaving him to stand buck-assed naked in only his dog tags in front of Jeff, whose roaming eyes, he knew, traced his body from flat top to toes.
From there, Bull's transformation into a baseball god began. He pulled on Finley's jockstrap and tucked his half-hard dong into the cup, sanitary sweat socks and black stirrups, pinstriped double-breasted uniform shirt, pants, then Finley's well-worn cleats. Two swipes with eye-black to fight the setting sun and a black ball cap completed the image.
He emerged from the dugout and trotted onto the field beside the eight other members of the team to the spirited cheers of the crowd.
The umpire proclaimed, ' Play ball!'
The opposition, a homegrown team bearing the name of a construction company on ugly blue and yellow uniforms, failed to score off Derek's fastball, slider, and curve into the third inning. After the second man up fanned, Jeff held up two fingers, a signal to the rest of the outfielders. That meant one to go.
A scruffy, tough-looking batter stepped up to the dish. For the last forty minutes, Bull had studied Derek's windup and pitch, the raw, masculine fluidity of his moves, his leg kick and foot swings. He'd also noticed Jeff doing the same.
He was in these thoughts when Bull heard the unmistakable thunder-crack of seasoned mountain ash striking seamed white leather. Looking quickly up, he realized the batter had gone yard off Derek. The ball sailed up and over second base on a line-drive course toward the centerfield wall.
' Fuck-!' he grunted, back-peddling to the warning track. He only had one chance. If he missed, the team would be down by a run.
Turning on the jets and sprinting all out, Bull charged the wall. From here, everything went on automatic. He timed it just right and dug one foot into the sod as the other climbed the wall. Bull pushed up at full extension. The ball came down just over the wall, but somehow, he managed to snow cone it in his glove. He'd robbed the opposing batter of a line drive round tripper.
A deafening cheer rose up from the crowd. Bull smiled and hooted out a proudly earned, ' Yeah-!' and fired off the ball to Jeff. After that, he adjusted his cup. He'd earned that, too.
' Up next for the Army team,' the announcer declared, ' Bullen, Thomas. Bullen batting for Finley.'
The new fan favorite, Bull moved into the chalk outline of the batter's box to the delight of the Army faithful. Adjusting first the hard plastic helmet then his cup to protect both heads from potential damage at the mercy of a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball, he choked up on the bat. The pitch came low and away.
' Ball one!' exclaimed the ump.
He chopped the next two pitches foul. Down to his last strike, he flashed his hardest, meanest game face, spread his feet and hunched his knees, then assumed his stance with Finley's borrowed bat. The pitcher wound up and fired, shooting the ball up and in.
Bull focused all of his energy into the swing and connected. A sonic boom ripped across the diamond, at its zenith, the baseball. Bull and the cheering crowd watched it rip over the left field wall.
' Home run!'
Bull made a fist and punched air before setting off for his trot around the bases. When he reached home plate, Jeff, Derek, and the rest of his stoked, sweaty teammates were waiting. The victory group hug that followed made it all worth repeating, which Bull did three innings later.
He hadn't worked up a sweat this good at anything but warfare or sex in a long time, and he admitted he'd never enjoyed hanging with a group of guys more. Three hours after his arrival, he couldn't believe Jeff and Derek, Sarge Finley and some of the others weren't buddies he'd known for years. But that was the nature of pickup sports, instant camaraderie and comfort, sweat and maleness celebrated on a hoops court, hockey rink, football field, or baseball diamond.
Once the grunting, butt patting, and knuckle punches were delivered, he started back to the dugout where his clothes sat in a neat pile under the bench near Finley. The other man met him on crutches. Bull realized they were fairly well matched in all visible ways: height, weight, machismo, and as he'd learned, rank.
' Awesome fuckin' game, Sarge,' Finley growled, balancing on the crutches enough for a high-five. ' You did that uniform proud.'
Bull smiled and started to unbutton the borrowed shirt. ' I'll have it back to you in a flash.' He aimed his nose into the swampy heat of his left armpit and wrinkled his nose. ' Course, not as clean as when I put it on.'
Finley grinned and Bull unbuttoned to the waist, but didn't get much further when a strong hand clapped his shoulder. It was Jeff, wearing the same cocky smirk on his All-American good looks. ' You got any plans, dude?'
' Yeah - find a motel with a good shower,' Bull chuckled, reveling in the feel of Jeff's fingers, which began to massage his shoulders with firm strokes.
' You in a hurry?' Jeff persisted.
Bull shrugged. ' It's kinda late. What you got in mind?'
Jeff flashed Finley a quick, knowing look, something Bull's years of heightened observations as an Army Ranger noticed instantly. ' My wife's out of town this weekend. Finley's coming back to the house. We got the place to ourselves, and there's a six pack of cold ones sitting in the fridge. And hey - if you want that shower, you can take one there.'
Bull hesitated - for about a second. He'd grown so close to the men in their short time together, and as much as he would have denied the half-hard bone they'd put in his jock a year before, here and now if something more happened, he wouldn't turn it down.
He could always blame the beer.
Cleats and all, he hopped onto the back of his Harley and followed Jeff's new SUV to the Brunson house somewhere in the outskirts of Phoenix. A few minutes after he was asked to turn over his motorcycle keys to the host so their party could begin, a sports truck pulled into the driveway.
' Who's that?' Bull asked, chugging down the first gulp of suds.
Jeff's cock-sure smile widened. ' The kid - Derek. Hope you guys don't mind, but I invited Private Conway to join us.'
Derek plunked his keys into the same glass bowl that held Bull's and was handed a beer. Bull turned away from the incredible image of their starting pitcher, instead watching Finley's long, flat hairy toes wiggling at the base of his cast. ' How'd it happen?'
' Early in the morning, son,' Finley groaned. ' That first wrong step sucks.'
Private Derek Conway, ball cap on backwards, grinned dumbly and joined the men in Jeff's living room. ' What about you, Sarge?' The question on Derek's foamy lips was meant for Bull. ' How long 'til you're in San Diego?'
' A week, maybe. I'm taking it slow,' Bull grumbled. ' Real slow. I'm on an extended leave from the service. Got somebody watching my house in North Carolina.'
Seated between Finley and the young pitcher on the couch, Jeff whistled out a sigh. ' Shit, boy, what you doing grilling a superior officer like that for?'
Derek's sexy, goofy face dropped. ' Sorry, Sarge,' he said.
Jeff playfully punched the young ball jock's arm. ' I was only fooling with you, bro.' Then, to Bull, he added, ' Not very smart. Damn cute, but real green.'
Bull nodded. ' I noticed.'
Derek's face went red. His goofy grin restored, he sucked on the mouth of his beer bottle, an action that only incited the unwanted attention he suddenly found himself at the center of. The ribbing wouldn't end there.
' Fuck, I wish I had somebody to give me some of what Derek's showing to that beer bottle,' Jeff snorted.
' No shit,' said Finley. ' What about you, Sarge? You getting any out motoring across America on that hog?'
Bull tipped his eyes toward Derek to see the handsome young ball jock take a nervous swallow. ' I've been getting some, here and there.'
' Hot fuck,' Jeff sighed. ' If my old lady offered up more of that sweet pussy of hers, I could give my right arm a rest.'
Finley groped the other vet's nearest bicep and squeezed. ' Thought this one looked bigger than the left.'
All of the men laughed.
' What about you?' Jeff asked, nodding at Derek.
The younger man shrugged dumbly. ' What about what?'
' You getting laid or pumping that long pink prick of yours?'
The question sent a spray of beer foam shooting across the room. While the three vets chuckled, Derek stood and tried to contain the spill, wiping the sleeve of one arm across his mouth. ' What kinda question is that?'
' Something we all want to know,' Finley said. The barest trace of a smirk twisted the corners of his handsome face. ' Don't worry, kid. We asked, but we ain't gonna tell nobody the answer.'
Bull sized up the lean, tough pitcher who'd notched a win for the Army team and added his voice to the pack of jocks surrounding him. ' Come clean - you getting any cunt or just jacking off?'
Red faced, Derek eventually admitted, ' Both.'
' You got a girlfriend?' Bull asked.
' No one special.'
Finley shifted beside Jeff on the couch. ' So if you ain't got some bitch going down on you, who's giving you head? Somebody on base?'
Jeff's grin widened. ' Some dude?'
Derek's face, already flushed, now blanched. ' What? A dude..no way!'
' Come on,' sighed Finley. ' Big stud like our buddy Derek, he ain't into that kinda shit.'
' Still,' Jeff persisted, ' if another dude is keeping our star pitcher happy, shouldn't we, as his teammates, be in on it?'
The beer in Derek's hand shook. ' Guys, it's not like that-!'
' Like what?' Jeff kicked up from the couch to stand beside the cornered young jock. ' Like this?' As the others watched, and to Derek's shock, Jeff slipped a hand down between their star pitcher's legs and felt up his sweaty, cup-covered package. Derek seized in place. ' Sarge Finley and me,' Jeff grumbled, his voice a husky sigh, ' we been eyeballing you, Private.'
' R-really?' Derek stuttered.
' Yeah,' Jeff said, though his most telling answer to back the claim came when he undid the belt on Derek's pants. Top button and zipper quickly followed, baring the young pitcher's bulging jock and the cup beneath that hid his gear.
Jeff gripped the back of Derek's head and pulled him close with one hand. The other went fishing and soon had the star pitcher's plastic cup off. Derek's pants fell to the floor. From there, foot-stinking cleats and uniform shirt followed. Derek stepped out of his dropped pants, and with no underwear beneath, that put his square, hairy can framed by the white legs straps of his jock right in Bull's face. The funky, sour odor of stale sweat and asshole gusted across Bull's nostrils, hypnotic and undeniable. Setting down his beer, he took Finley's cue and moved in, spreading Derek's cheeks for a better view of the prize at their center.
' That's it, Sarge,' Jeff urged. ' Chow on his hole. Eat him good, Bull!'
He pulled out of Derek's mouth, squeezed the ring of purple skin around the head, and painted the young pitcher's lips with precome. Saying nothing, Bull leaned down, cupped Derek's face in his glove hand, and kissed him hard, tasting his own maleness on the Private's breath.
' You're fuckin' incredible, guy,' Bull huffed.
Derek's striking blue eyes locked with his. ' You, too, Sarge. You saved my ass out there tonight.'
Feeling his way down the star pitcher's chest, Bull eventually reached the tangle of coarse curls lining the taughtness of Derek's abs. A quick grope put a hard, red-hot piece of steel in his grasp.
Derek's cock matched the rest of his body - lanky and tough, with an arrow-shaped knob and a hairy root. Bull joined Jeff on his knees between the pitcher's legs for a taste of the swampy heaven there. The funky stink of baseball and sweat hung heavily on Derek's cock. Bull sucked and slurped for his share of the young jock's gear before passing it over to Jeff's waiting mouth. Both veterans strummed each other's bats while savoring the salty taste of Derek's.
Finley continued to tongue-fuck Derek's shithole from the seated position. At one point, Bull and Jeff's fight to gain possession of the Private's slender dick turned into a tag-team effort. They hummed their lips up and down, each staking claim to one side of Derek's shaft. So much attention built him quickly to climax.
With Finley's tongue jammed up his ass, six hands stroking his thighs, chest, and nuts - and two Army horn dogs slurping on his cock - Derek threw back his head, grunted, and sprayed nut juice across the faces between his legs.
Bull savored the taste of the young ball jock's jizz. ' Better than beer,' he huffed.
' No shit,' Jeff agreed. Both men kissed, sharing the first of the many loads they'd uncork that night.
Finley jacked on Jeff's boner. ' I get the boy's pussy first.'
Bull glanced up, but kept sucking the other Sarge's cock for more of the precome Finley dribbled in milky rivers. The hole in question jerked around the finger Bull had jammed into its musty tightness.
' Sarge-?' Derek gasped, spitting out Finley's left nut. Panic replaced the fucked-up, goofy grin on his face.
' You heard your C-O,' Jeff said. His thick seven-incher hung out of the open fly of his soiled baseball uniform along with a set of itch-red balls that matched Bull's in size. ' Get up here and give Sarge Finley some of that hot jock butthole of yours.'
' Go on,' Bull urged. He put a firm slap down on Derek's hard can. ' We all want a go at your hole.
The idea obviously frightened their team's star pitcher, but with three beers in him and all of them way pass crossing the line, he tentatively, slowly moved into position, climbing onto the couch and Finley in a reverse missionary stance. Once Finley lined the fireman's helmet capping his long, bumpy rod up into the Private's well-eaten and fingered asshole, Derek seemed to concede there would be no avoiding this. He lowered down to meet Finley's fuck-thrust up.
Bull could tell by the young jock's shaking legs and barely contained grunts of pain that this was Derek's first time getting fucked. That meant there was something special about the moment Bull appreciated and respected, a straight jock dude giving up his most private body part for his buddy and commanding officer. He leaned closer for a better look at the popping of Derek's cherry. Once Finley was in, Bull licked the other sergeant's hairy balls, tracing his tongue up the part of Finley's bone still visible, all the way to the ring of stretched ass muscles that hid the rest.
' You okay?' Finley asked.
Derek nodded painfully, tears in his eyes. ' Yes, Sir.'
' The boy's tough,' Jeff said. ' I want his soldier's can next.'
Bull flashed the other veteran a lusty smirk. ' Shit, don't I get anything for driving in the winning run?'
Jeff nodded. ' You get to fuck him once we loosen him up. Shit, Bull - after all, we've been the ones dying to get a bone in his butt for all these months. Until you get your turn -'
The team's captain slid off the couch and joined Bull on the floor. They quickly undressed each other, shedding the male-smelling baseball uniforms, tossing shirts, pants, cleats, stirrups, sweat socks, and jocks into the swampy pile at their feet.
Jeff started with Bull's toes and didn't miss a spot. His warm, wet tongue licked the stink off Bull's feet before moving up his legs. Then, with the same hunger he'd shown the rookie's can, Jeff lapped at Bull's shitter, employing the kind of skill all four of them usually showed to the cunts of their women. Bull choked up on Jeff's hairy bone and opened wide. The salty taste of precome ignited on his lips.
With his dick bobbing in and out of Jeff's mouth and the other ball jock's trapped inside his, Bull tipped an eye toward the action taking place on the couch. Derek glided up and down on Sarge Finley's tool. The sound of throaty grunts filled Jeff's house, growing louder and meaner with each pump.
As if sensing Finley's closeness, Jeff pushed Bull off his cock. ' No, dude, not yet. I want to save my load for the Private's hole.'
Bull licked his lips and met Jeff halfway for a sloppy kiss, then together they watched Finley empty both of his low-hanging balls up into the starting pitcher's butt.
' Fuckin' sweet,' Jeff moaned. His breath teased the load-plastered hairs around the ring of Derek's pucker. Offering no further explanation, he pressed his face into Finley's stale spunk for a taste of sperm-filled hole.
Derek squatted doggy-style with his head between Finley's legs. The Sarge had ordered him to clean off the spent cock. Derek didn't argue and now lapped the tang of his own butt from the hairy groin of the man who'd just fucked him.
Bull lined Jeff's dong up and waited for the veteran ball jock to push in. Once Jeff's fucking of the young pitcher commenced, Bull maneuvered his face between their legs and for the next five minutes, alternated between sucking the four fat nuts jiggling over his nostrils and rimming Derek's hole while the team captain's bone slid in and out of it.
He knew Jeff was getting close by the increasingly violent fuck-thrusts into Derek's can. Bull settled down on the floor, focused on the action overhead, and waited. The wait wasn't long. A few seconds later, Jeff howled a string of obscenities, pulled out, and a hail of hot, masculine juice rained down onto Bull's face.
' My turn,' he growled, licking his lips.
The acrid stink of jock-dude feet, nuts, hole, and armpits filled the room. Bull sucked in a deep hit, spurred on by its potency. In preparation for the assault on Derek's hole that would cap off an incredible night with three amazing guys, Bull watched the young pitcher lick the toes sticking out of Finley's cast. Like the Sarge before him, Jeff's spent cock was also given a tongue-bath. Both veterans sat winded and satisfied on the couch, one bare ass beside another to receive the Private's servicing.
Bull leaned down for a taste of Derek's hairy chute. Spunk oozed out of the asshole Finley and Jeff had already loosened, an image Bull couldn't shake any more than his hunger for a taste of it. A few deep licks coated his tongue with the spunk from his new buddies' nuts.
Unshaved mouth glistening, Bull pushed his cock into Derek's butthole. It was like fucking warm pudding, tight and sloppy. Jeff slid to his knees and again buried his tongue up Bull's can.
' I'm so fuckin' glad you didn't shower,' the team captain moaned, his muffled voice sending a wave of hot air between Bull's butt cheeks.
Ten minutes later, Bull blasted the first of what would total four loads with the baseball jocks, mixing his ball-juice with that of his teammates.
He awoke at what he thought at first to be sunrise. Then Bull remembered they'd watched morning break during a four-man oral sex chain during which they'd all popped off in each other's mouths.
' Shit,' he grumbled, pulling free of Finley's arm at the edge of the bed. Jeff's snores mingled with Derek's, and the sour heaviness of stale beer and even staler man-sweat filled the room with a powerful reminder of what they'd shared together before passing out.
This had been good - damn good - but he knew it was time to move on. Bull picked his clothes out of the mess of dirty uniforms and cleats on the floor, found his way to the bathroom, and decided to take Jeff up on the offer of that promised hot shower.
By the time he emerged, the sun had set fully and a dry, warm night was in place. Hungry for a bite to eat and feeling totally stoked, he fished his keys out of the glass bowl and left the guys to sleep off the previous night's hard work. They'd earned it - on and off the baseball field.
The warm desert night seemed full of promise. Donning his helmet and with a smile on his face, Bull mounted the Harley.
' Next stop,' he said, starting the ignition, ' San Diego..'
TO BE CONTINUED..