Roger’s Dilemma
It’s Saturday morning, first day of Spring practice. Phil is nowhere to be seen, probably already at the ball field. I’m thankful for that, because the last thing I want to do is relieve the events of last night. My ass is sore and my throat is dry. I need to pull myself together. None of the shit that went down is going to help me out on the diamond, just the opposite. If I can rid myself of the picture in my mind of me kneeling before Phil, that would indeed be a miracle.
I can still taste my own cum, Phil made certain that my taste buds could differentiate between how my cum tasted different from his. “How’s your own cum taste champ?” I remember him asking after a sneak attack on my mouth when he kissed me giving me a taste of my own cum.
I stumble my way to the bathroom, close the door behind me. The full-length mirror fastened on the inside of the door tells the whole story. Standing there, staring back at me is a man urgently in need of a shave and a shower, me!
I rush quickly through the routine, dry off and make my way to my closet to get uniformed up. I know I can’t drive my car wearing cleats so I search for my sneakers and in their place, sits Phil’s old beat up black Nike Air Force sneaks with a new note folded inside. “Since we’re the same size I’m wearing your Asics Gel-Nimbus 27’s, they fit great. I love them! Try my Nike’s, they’re broken in. Thanks. Phil.” It’s already started. He said he’d be dressing out of my closet and he’s doing exactly as he said. If that’s the way it’s going to be from now, I can handle it.
I pull on a fresh jockstrap and uniform up, and slip into his sneakers. They don’t feel that bad, and yes, they are well broken in. An electric shock zaps my cock causing it to stir as I lace them up. There is something arousing about wearing my roommate’s beat up sneaks, something if asked about, I couldn’t explain, but there it is. They smell like him.
I’m already late for practice so I’ll have to stop at Starbucks and grab a Carmel Macchiato and cheese Danish and down them on the way to the field. I park my Stingray next to Phil’s old black Ram 1500 pick up. I’m relieved to see that the team is still in the dugout, but they’re being lectured by Coach Brian when I arrive.
“Well, Edwards so glad you could join the team. That’s gonna cost you ten laps around the field after practice for tardiness, and if it happens again, you’ll be on the bench – is that clear?”
Yes, Coach Brian, very clear, it won’t happen again.
“Better not, I’d hate to put you on the bench, son.”
Coach Brian is what the girls call a walking dream. Thirty-eight, a muscular 5’8” one hundred and fifty pounds of a stud. The whistle hanging around his neck speaks to his authority. He’s a former Marine Drill Instructor, handsome with a square jaw and perfect teeth, a blond Viking with piercing blue eyes, still wearing that high-n-tight cut from the Corps. His hairy muscular thighs, the size of fire plugs could crack a coconut without too much effort. He has a trim twenty-nine-inch waist and the grey cotton shorts he’s wearing highlight two big hard mounds of male ass, the envy of anyone looking in his direction.
It’s obvious even to the casual observer that he hits the gym on a regular basis. His lats are like stretched eagle wings, his deltoids, the size of grapefruits, stand on muscular shoulders, and his massive biceps are cut and hard as steel.
He plants his foot on the bench, his chiseled calves are copies of the ones belonging to a marble statue of Mercury. His ankles hoover above white no-show cotton socks that disappear into his dusty black baseball cleats.
He balances his clipboard on his knee to study the schedule. Occasionally looks up and around the assembled players.
“Ok, Hopkins, you replace Phillips as short stop and Phillips you occupy the bench for this practice.” “Show me what you got son.” He says to Hopkins.
A big smile breaks out on the tall red headed freshman’s face. “Yes, coach I’ll do my best for you coach.” Hopkins responds.
Phillips knows the drill and how things work and is not disappointed knowing that he’ll be back in that position next rotation.
I look around and spot Phil, Ryan, Scooter and Arkansas huddled together near the entrance to locker room. They’re talking in hushed tones and looking my way. I have a sinking feeling watching them whisper to each other while looking at me. I decide to break the ice and approach the quartet.
Sup guys?
Ryan is checking me out up and down zeroing in on my crotch then to my face as I walk up to them.
“Not much.” Ryan says still eating me up with his eyes. “We’re just talking about getting together after practice at Arkansas’s off campus pad – you cool with that?”
Sounds good to me – do I need to bring anything?
“Just your sweet self.” Ryan answers, a big smile on his face. “We’ve got some figuring out to do, that’s all, nothing special.”
All kinds of alarm bells are going off in my head. Is this about that fucking vid? What are they up to?
The coach is suddenly standing behind me, taps me on my shoulder snapping me out of my mind fog. “After practice and your ten laps, report to my office – we need to clear up a couple of things.”
Yes, coach, I’ll be there. Is there something wrong?
“No, nothing wrong, just want to flesh out a couple thing that’s all, nothing to worry about son.”
Cool Coach, I’ll join you after I do my laps.
“Good, I’ll be waiting.”
The game goes well. The players are split up into two teams, blue and red. I’m on the red team along with my four pals. Red team wins three to zero.
The sun has been relentless, even this early in the year. My uniform shirt is stuck to my chest and back. I pull my shirt away from my body and flap it around to get some air inside.
My four pals disappear into the locker room as I head out to do my laps. They’re probably already in the showers, soaping up and playing grab ass. I’ll hit the showers after I meet with coach.
With some reserved muscle power, I complete the ten laps around the field and head for the locker room that is now deserted and quiet. It smells of sweaty jockstraps and damp socks. All that can be heard is the occasional clack of cleats striking the tiled hallway floor.
Coach Brian’s office is at the end of the hall past the supply room and a utility closet, otherwise, isolated at the end of the hall with a clear view straight down the hall to the locker room.
I had replaced my cleats with Phil’s ratty sneaks in order to run the ten laps. But I’m still uniformed up, I knock on coach’s door.
“Come on in Edwards.”
I enter his office and to say that it’s squared away would be an understatement. It’s clean and organized. There is a large USMC flag on a pole standing next to a tall grey file cabinet, MLB posters of his favorite teams on the walls arranged like gallery showings.
Coach is sitting behind his desk, feet on the top, crossed at the ankles, his fingers woven together behind his head. I look up the slightly bellowing leg of his shorts and can see his fully packed jockstrap, even though I try not to look. He notices me looking up the legs of his shorts and eases his feet down to the floor, smiling all the while.
“Come sit over here next to me son, I’ve got something I want to show you.” I come around his desk and sit in the chair a few feet away from his. He’s shuffling through a stack of papers and finds the one he’s looking for.
“Take a look at this son, your stats,” offering me the paper in his hand. I accept and scan it. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you and this tells the story. Your batting average was well over 300 last season and your performance at second base is stellar. Major League scouts have an eye on you son, and this could be your doorway into the show if you continue the good work.”
He reaches for my knee and gives it a tight squeeze. I have to take a second to catch my breath. After all that’s gone down over the past twenty-four hours I don’t trust what I’m feeling in the moment. My dick is acting like a school girl reacting to the praise he’s heaping on me. I’m hard in my jock and my head is spinning.
“Are you ok son?” he says removing his hand from my knee noticing the faraway look in my eyes.
Oh, yes sir, I’m cool, just a little confused. I thought I might be in hot water after being late to practice, that’s all.
“We all make mistakes and a real man owns up and takes responsibility, like you have. So no worries on that score.”
Thank you, coach, I’ll do my best for you and the team.
“I know you will, son – now go meet up with your pals and have a great weekend, you earned it.”
I decide to skip the shower and take care of that when I get back to the dorm room after seeing what’s going down at Arkansas’s apartment. When I arrive at his digs across town, I knock on the door a couple of times, the rap music is so loud that my knock goes unheard. The door is unlocked so I push and enter to find that all four are still in their uniforms. Phil, Scooter and Ryan are stretched out on Arkansas’s long plush sofa with their feet up on a heavy, scared wooden coffee table. Arkansas is playing host handing out beers as I enter.
“Come on in Roger.” Arkansas says pushing a brew into my hand. His arm draped over my shoulder leading me into the center of his living room. “Here he is boys, still suited up, like the four of us, AND no shower – Bingo!”
They all laugh and I’m confused as Ryan stands and comes over to me. “Lookie here, lookie here!” he says joining Arkansas. “We’ve got a real live one here boys, the live wire I’ve been hearing about and saw, I might add.”
He drops a hand to my crotch and hefts it up. “Take a look at this, our straight pal has a jock packed full of fresh meat, I’m thinking.” He laughs as the other three join him.
Now, come on guys let’s all play nice, I say.
Ryan drops to his knees, reaches up and unzips my uniform trousers, reaches in and wrestles my hardening cock from my jockstrap, pulling it through the fly as Arkansas and Phil yank my hands behind my back holding me in place. Scooter unbuckles my belt and drags my trousers down to my ankles and kneels next to Ryan who is holding my dick at the base and points the head toward Scooter who licks the head and takes it into his mouth. Ryan scoops up my hanging balls and sucks them into his mouth one at a time.
“You were right Phil” Ryan chimes in, “This straight boy sure as fuck tastes mighty good, let’s get him into the bedroom and have a party on him!”
They drag me into the bedroom and slam me down on Arkansas’s king size bed. The four of them in a sexual frenzy rip my uniform off leaving only my soiled cotton socks, and Phil’s beat up sneakers. Phil tosses my jockstrap to Arkansas who covers his face with it before shoving it down into one of his pockets.
I’m swarmed and held down by four fully clothed men. My nakedness a sharp contrast to their uniforms.
Phil pulls my hands above my head. Arkansas, at the bottom of the bed has both of my feet in his large hands, his teeth working on my sneaker laces, sucking the laces into his mouth while both of his hands work to remove Phil’s dusty sneaks. He pulls the first one off and covers his face with it inhaling my foot sweat mixed with Phil’s lingering stink, then the other sneak receives the same treatment. He removes my socks with his teeth and caresses both feet with warm eager hands. He stores my socks in a back pocket then proceeds to fondle and suck my toes, tonguing between each, sucks both big toes. Holds my feet together and sinks his face into the soles licking and chewing on the bottom of both heels removing old waxy skin cells and swallows like happy hour hour-d’oeuvres.
Ryan has my rod in his hands, stroking it slowly, eager to lick off the first drop of precum he can force up the urethra. Scooter is playing with both of my tits, rolling them around between forefinger and thumb and occasionally lowering his head to suck and nibble on them.
Scooter looks up from my chest. “Let’s turn him over and get at this beautiful fucking ass – I’m hungry as hell.”
The four of them flip me over onto my stomach. Arkansas and Ryan spread my legs while Phil grabs and stretches my arms above my head and that leaves Scooter, the youngest, to crawl on his stomach between my spread legs until his face is nestled over my ass crack. I feel the tip of his tongue breach my crack and slither inside until it’s tip touches my anal ring. “Ummm.” He says to himself. “This tastes like a real man’s ass.” He continues swabbing between my cheeks until his tongue lands on my sphincter and pushes inside. “God fucking damn I’m loving this straight boy’s insides!”
“That’s right Scooter!” Ryan purrs, “Get him good and wet because I’m going to make me some babies up there!”
Ryan jumps on my back his weight pressing me into the mattress as he mounts me and plays with my hole with the tip of his cock, his precum slicking the way for his entry. The head pops inside and he pushes forward until his nuts are against mine.
GOD DAMN Ryan, you’re too big dude. Get out of my hole!
“Is the straight boy going to cry now?” Ryan whispers into my ear as he settles on top of me. His dick hard and pulsing rooted inside of my chute. I can feel it throb. “This won’t take too long sexy boy because I’ve been dreaming about fucking this hole for a long time.” The slow grind begins as he takes my ass, working to empty his nut deep inside of me.
The other three are standing next to the bed watching Ryan saw into my guts. “Do him good!” Phil say out loud, almost shouting. “This straight boy is going to be our personal fuck hole, after all, what else is a mascot good for anyway?”
End of Chapter Four
Rex Larsen
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