At the end of my first year at State I brought Andy home with me. My mother fed him, thinking he needed to add some weight. My father played catch with him in the backyard, wanting to keep him in shape, and I took him with me when I caught up on my lawn mowing. That took all the first week and into the second, but the weather was perfect and Andy followed me everywhere.

I'd never felt loved before in any satisfying way, but I was sure Andy loved me almost as much as he loved baseball and when we'd go down to the softball field, he'd stand out in center field and catch the fly balls I hit to him. It was about the best my life had been, but Andy went home, leaving me to spend the next six weeks with an occasional letter and frequent phone calls at night. Some lasted for hours but it wasn't like being there. I missed him and couldn't wait for summer practice.

My parents were supportive and invited Andy to come to our house. When the time came, they'd take both of us back to school. My mother's cooking was almost enough to get my mind off Andy but I could only spend so much time eating and each time I went into my room, I saw Andy in my bed. I didn't even have a picture of him, until a letter arrived with one of his high school pictures tucked into the six lines of text. He thought I might like it and he was right. Seeing his face made my heart ache harder but I wouldn't have given up that picture for all the s'mores in Statesville.

In late July it was back to school for summer practice. We picked Andy up at the bus station a week before we were due at school. My mother hugged him, my father shook his hand, and it was all I could do to restrain myself from throwing a lip lock on him. Our hands rested touching as we drove back to the house.

I waited until the door to my room was closed and I went to work on his lips. He kissed me back with equal fervor and my life was complete. As our clothes hit the floor I felt his excitement standing up against my belly as our mouths did most of the talking. I dragged him over to the bed, threw my bed clothes out of our way and tossed him in. I wanted to make up for lost time.

I was on top of him, he was on top of me, and I could hardly stand it. I kissed my way down to his stomach and followed the slight bit of fuzz that marked the way to the prize and I hit the jackpot. I licked, sucked, and massaged the handful of overheated pecker and Andy moaned and gasped until he got his mouth on my dick.

It worked for me. Something he was reluctant to do became something he did without hesitation. The more he sucked the more his hips fed me the happy sausage I wanted to eat. He gently held my ass as he practiced his sucking technique. I wasn't so insistent about how much of my dick he ate at one time. For one thing I wanted it to last and that meant being a model of restraint. I was doing just fine until he got his finger up my butt, and all hell broke loose. Having my mouth full of him, it was all I could do to warn him of the gusher his finger had set loose, but he figured it out without me needing to speak clearly. He settled for using his hand for the final squirt. It was too late to cry over spilt milk. He issued no complaint about the taste or the lack of an early warning system.

Andy had other things on his mind once he'd drained off my most immediate problem. He was quick to get me under him and was eagerly humping away once his finger had gotten me ready for bigger and better things.

I used a pillow under my stomach to achieve the proper elevation to facilitate him as he eagerly humped away. This time it was he who came to a conclusion before either of us were ready for the reunion to be cut short. He made no bones about how glad he was to see me as he humped hard the last few times, and gasped for air as he eased his way onto my back to make his withdrawal. Once he took his time disengaging, he ended up on his back beside me, looking into my face.

"So, how's the girlfriend," I said, and we went into hysterics and couldn't stop laughing.

I'd thought about seeing Andy again since he'd left but I hadn't planned what it might be like when I did see him again. It was perfect. Whatever it was supposed to be like reuniting with someone you love, this had to be it. Seeing him, being close to him, and having sex with him was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

As we kissed again there was a knock at my door and we both sat straight up in my bed. There was no time for dressing, hiding, or anything else.

"Are you boy's hungry?" my mother asked through the door.

"Ah, we're catching up on what we've been doing, Mom. We'll be down in a few minutes," I said, trying to sound less guilty than I was at that instant, praying she didn't open the door.

"Okay, dear, I'll make some sandwiches and we'll talk about taking Andy to Outback tonight for dinner. I'm making s'mores for snacking and I'll have some sandwiches ready when you come down."

"Sounds great, Mom. We'll be down in a bit."

There was no more chatter through the door and I thought the danger had passed. I knew if my mother had opened the door and seen us dressed in our all together and side by side in my bed, she'd have excused herself and closed the door without commenting, but I didn't want her to need to deal with my relationship with Andy, until we were certain what our relationship was. It was all very cozy and we couldn't get enough of each other, but that didn't mean it wouldn't take some hard work and dedication.

"Damn, I'd have died if she'd opened that door," Andy said.

"My parents are totally cool but I don't necessarily want to provide them with imagery they might not be prepared to deal with."

"You can say that again," he said.

"Well, I would, but it's too many words and I've got other things to do."

I leaned to kiss him again and before long we were back at it. Andy loved to make out and I was right there with him. When it had all started in the spring, he was reluctant each time we advanced to a new level of lust for one another. When he stopped to catch his breath, I let him figure out that not being able to breathe meant you were going in the right direction. Before long he was getting ahead of me, wanting to add anal sex to our list of things to do.

Being invited to summer practice meant I was an integral part of Coach Bell's team. Dooley, to Chance, to Branch was the double play combination. We got a lot of time to practice together in the six weeks before serious classes began. Playing beside Chance was like seeing an old friend. We knew each other's moves and we would still compete for being the smoothest and fastest infielders in our league.

Brooks was at third base, Andy was in left, and Monty Kristoff was brought in from a two year college to play centerfield, while Wertz was in right. Tom Boggs and Lenny Moore were both catchers. It was the hardest position and Coach Bell knew that he needed two good catchers if we were going to get serious about playing ball. Boggs was the starting catcher but Moore replaced him in many of our games.

Chance, Wertz, and I were the only sophomores, except for two pitchers. The rest were juniors, except Brooks and Boggs were seniors along with two of our starting pitchers. Many of the starters from the year before had graduated. The new lineup would be tested often as Coach Bell had scheduled games all over the state.

Our longest trip that summer was a bit of a bummer. It was a two hour drive and we were met with rain showers. We sat under the bleachers until the game was called on account of rain. We loaded back onto the bus and drove the two hours home. Andy and I always managed to get seats together on our bus rides and that made the distance irrelevant to me.

Chance and Wertz hung around me whenever we weren't on the field. I'd been in the lineup the year before, which made me the old pro in our group. Chance was still his cheery self, taking no offense at my superior fielding skill. Of course he hit a hundred points better than I did in batting average, so he had that to make him smile. He was the complete package and destined to play ball after college.

It was obvious why Coach Bell had gone after Monty Kristoff. The amount of wood he got on the ball and the sound it made when he made contact was spectacular. He would bat cleanup and Andy was moved down to the fifth spot in the batting order. Chance batted third and was more of a spray hitter; he often hit the ball into an area just beyond the fielder's reach.

I still led off with Brooks batting second. My objective was still to weasel a walk out of the cold pitcher my first time at bat. After that I had to pretend I could hit when I came to bat and hope for the best. There was no backup shortstop to hit for me my sophomore year. We had two utility infielders and any time one of the starters was dinged up or needed to be rested, the utility guys replaced them. I'd never had anything resembling a serious injury and planned to stay at shortstop for every play.

Once school started we worked out on our own and in the gym on a regular schedule. Andy took me down to the freshman field to give me batting tips. Monty began accompanying us once he learned of Andy's mission. Now, I had two hitting instructors.

Monty was more intense than most of the players. He took baseball far more serious than the sophomores. He'd gone to a two year college because it was all he could afford and his grades weren't that good. Coach Bell had heard of him and went to see him play. Now Monty played at State on a scholarship. As I said, Monty was a serious baseball player.

While it was still warm enough to play baseball, Monty rounded up Moore to catch and Stanton to pitch to me. Andy and Monty played the outfield, figuring I could get the ball out of the infield. They ended up on the outfield grass just beyond the infield. I'd grown accustomed to coming to bat in a game in front of any number of players and spectators. It lasted a couple of minutes three times a game, maybe four. Taking batting practice for an hour or more with so many guys there to try to help me wasn't as easy as coming to bat in a game.

Their suggestions were meant to help. One day I stood stationary as Stanton threw one fastball after another, assuring me he had total control and wouldn't hit me. The balls came in as low as my knees and a few came much too close to my nose. Standing while someone threw fastballs at my head wasn't a bright move in my mind, but they were trying to help and I did as requested, even against my better judgment.

School was another matter and my classes were all enjoyable and well within my intellectual range. I was still working on what I wanted to be when I grew up. Baseball was occupying far more of my time than I'd initially thought it might. While my classes were a breeze, Andy was still befuddled by the subjects he was required to take. Monty was no less a challenge; Coach Bell had brought him to me and explained that he was depending on me to help his centerfielder.

All in all, my time was limited and there wasn't a lot of time left over for contemplating my future. One night with Andy reading an assignment and Monty working on some math problems, I wondered if my future might not be in teaching. I had rescued Andy from failure the previous spring and I was expected to do no less for Monty. I wasn't sure what Coach Bell's reaction might be if either of my students failed to keep his grades high enough to maintain eligibility.

The check I received each week for tutoring had increased. I'd turned over my customers at home to one of the neighborhood boys that I thought would do a good job. I was no longer able to guarantee my availability, because grass growing season was concurrent with the baseball season. All but one of my clients waited for my return home, letting the grass grow. This summer I introduced them to the new kid and I explained that I'd not be able to continue.

I didn't need to mow lawns with the size of the check I was getting for tutoring. It gave me one less worry my second year at State. There wasn't a lot of spare time for anything, but late at night, after I'd gotten rid of Monty and scooted Chance and Wertz our of our room, I'd lock the door and it was then that Andy and I were able to be together.

I remembered my previous roommate Big. I remembered our room always being filled with the comings and goings of all the athletes he knew and that knew him. There was no way I would encourage that in my room when there were far more interesting things Andy and I wanted to do.

Our door was open or unlocked most afternoons. Once the door was locked, everyone was told we were studying or sleeping and shouldn't be disturbed. It was most difficult when Chance and Wertz came to visit and talk. Some evenings they didn't seem to want to leave, but they finally would if we insisted we had better things to do than talk.

No one ever hinted that they suspected anything out of the ordinary. Andy was plenty manly and no one would ever figure on us fooling around behind closed doors. His bed was always messed up, even though he never slept there. My bed was exactly the right size for both of us if we arranged ourselves properly.

Andy was still mostly quiet, except when he played baseball. He was full of chatter, excitement, and love for the game. It was contagious and I began to enjoy the game more than ever. It was no longer my ticket to college but the transportation that got me through the year. I'd never before had friends like those. Boggs was a bit of roughneck as were a couple of the pitchers, but pitchers are always bigger in their heads than they are on the field. Some had a reason to be arrogant but most of them weren't going any further than college ball.

As for me, baseball was still the way I saw myself getting the education I wanted. I didn't see baseball beyond college but Andy talked more and more about the BIGS. Monty may have had something to do with Andy's new desire to play ball after college. Monty was on his way to pro ball and it's all he talked about. Trying to help me become a better batter was an opportunity for him to learn more about the mechanics of batting. When we'd play teams with heavy hitters, Monty was always watching their swing, their stance, and how they carried themselves.

Education would have something to do with his future, but Monty wasn't dumb, just disinterested in higher learning. It was something he had to do and if he needed a C in a subject to stay eligible, he got the C. No matter how hard we studied and how often we went over the material, Monty just got to where he needed to go.

Coach Bell had gone silent. He watched us individually and together. He watched us exercise, play pepper in the gym, and go outside for hitting practice on nice days. I'd never been in better shape. Andy never changed. Monty never knew when enough was too much. Everyone had to quit before he would go in to shower. I'd never known anyone more dedicated to the game, but I knew nothing about where Monty came from or where he went to when school was out.

I took Andy home for Thanksgiving dinner and we went back to an empty dorm the day after. At Christmas he came and stayed until the day before Christmas Eve. He came back the day before New Years Eve and my parents took us back to campus. I didn't know anything about Andy's family but he never talked about himself. As long as we were together, I didn't need to know any more than he told me and we were together.

Once the door to our room was closed and locked, were we ever together all over the room and at times for hours. Sleeping together wasn't enough by the middle of my sophomore year. I loved having him hold me close and I loved holding him just as much. My life had never been better and I didn't need to think too hard about a future I wasn't at all certain about.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

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"Outside the Foul Lines Book Two Starting Shortstop" Copyright © 1 May 2008 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

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