Andy wanted to go out Friday evening, once we'd settled into my bedroom. I'd given him a good going over before we came down to socialize with my parents. Andy remained restless after dinner and he told me he wanted to go out. We agreed that the mall was our best bet. We could investigate the arcade to see if there were any interesting new games and maybe check the marquee at the twin theaters to see if a movie sounded good.

We tried several new games and I got the hang of them before Andy could settle into the options offered for defeating this align or that bad dude who was after something you didn't wish to lose but often did. We got back home in time for fresh apple pie and vanilla ice cream. We sat on the back porch enjoying the warm evening breeze. Spring had set in and the evenings were the best time to sit on the screened in porch. Some evenings we ate dinner out there, listening to the birds singing in the treetops.

Andy was particularly passionate that night. We hadn't touched each other since just before dinner and he was in the mood to be held and kissed and brought out of his quietude. Going down on me with lust in his mind, he worked me over, shoved digits up my tailpipe, and made me a hearty meal for his lusty appetite. I warned him off twice before I lurched my hips in response to letting loose of the result of his love making.

Andy didn't enjoy swallowing all that much or at least not before that night. He'd let himself go with the flow and my reluctance to blast his tonsils with cum caused a much more robust ejaculation. I kept him swallowing for a time, until I relaxed the tension in my muscles brought on by the loving he gave me.

When I expressed the desire to blow him, he said, "Not yet."

His positioning didn't allow me to take matters into my own… hands. He continued stimulating me until he'd excited me again, which didn't take long with him kissing and licking me. I hadn't really recovered from the first round but that didn't keep me from getting hard and excited and ready for more. Once I was pulsing in his fingers, he had me where he wanted me.

"Get me a towel," he said, and I wondered about the request.

He hadn't spilled a drop.

When I returned from the bathroom he'd tucked a pillow under him and his beautiful ass was elevated at exactly the right angle for me to give him something that he'd become increasingly more fond of as we refined the art. Handing him the towel he lifted up to tuck it between his groin and the pillow.

"I always feel like I'm going to cum when you fuck me hard. I want to see if I can cum without you touching me, except for fucking me."

The idea appealed to me. It explained why he'd gone unsatisfied. Once I'd finished once, I lasted longer the second time, although that wasn't a guarantee once I climbed on his ass. A few times I'd gone off upon entry with just the feel of his tight ring massaging me on one single thrust. Admittedly that was early on in our love making, but it took him time to get used to the idea of me doing to him what he so eagerly did to me. Now, my doing it to him was more preferable than him doing it to me. Andy was facing up to his uninhibited sexual desire.

Everything about Andy made me hot. His body was smooth and just muscular enough to be firm without being too hard, except for where being too hard was just right. It took only a touch to arouse him and turn an ordinary evening into an experience to remember. I suppose our timing and appetites were similar because neither of us was ever too tired nor did we get headaches. That's not to say we didn't leave other parts of our anatomy aching. I'd never thought about wearing it out before Andy and I hooked up, but that was a risk I was more than willing to take.

That's not to say it wasn't hard to get up some mornings, after Andy had mounted up a second or third time the night before. Some times he'd climax in a flurry after only a few minutes of sinking his most lustful part into my depths, but this wasn't the case if he wanted more and longer. It was always slower and easier, less frantic, the second time and thereafter.

He'd ease himself all but out of me and take a long time sliding it back deep within me. The way his cock spread me open created a sensation of perpetual and ever increasing excitement. After a long slow screw, if I didn't get off during it, I was quck to get inside him, drilling for the satisfaction his excitement left me with.

I think he would purposely slow things down at the end so I wouldn't cum. The only thing that excited him more than fucking me was when I fucked him. I was never known to be slow and easy on his ass. Once I was hot enough to mount him, I wasn't going to hold my horses, and sometimes my hard charging fucking got him off again. These were the times he became lost in his lust, not that I wasn't lost inside mine.

It was Saturday morning after pancakes and eggs. I took Andy over to the old softball field. As we came around the corner of the fence, I saw an old friend and waved. He jogged over to where we stood.

"Hey, Dooley. Missed you at school Friday. I was at the game."

"You were? Why aren't you playing?" I asked.

"Sprained my wrist sliding into second. Can't swing the bat for two weeks."

"Oh, Bobby, this is Andy," I said with Andy standing behind me.

"Hey, Henry," Andy said.

"Yeah, you're making quite a name for yourself. I've been watching the box scores. You and Kristoff are giving them hell."

"You guys know each other?" I asked.

"He was a junior when I was a freshman. We'd have played together but he went up to the minors," Andy said.

"You were a good hitter than but you couldn't field as I recall," Bobby remembered for us. "What happened?"

"He happened," Andy said, indicating me.

"He taught me to play shortstop," I told Andy.

"No I didn't. You were a natural. You're a better shortstop than I am," Bobby said.

"No way," I argued.

"Way, Dooley. You're good. Don't sell yourself short. I just showed you how to move. You did the hard part," Bobby added.

"Who do you play with?" I asked.

"Fort Worth."

"Weren't you out west," Andy asked. "That's what I heard."

"Started at Fargo. Fort Worth picked me up at the end of last year. We're pretty good."

"So, Bell brought you up as freshman. I use lay in my bed at night my freshman year dreaming he'd call for me. He didn't."

"The shortstop got hurt. That's the only reason why," I said.

"You don't know Bell too well. He's a chess master. He's always a half dozen moves ahead of the competition. You can bet an injury didn't get you into the starting lineup. You must have shown him something. He's a better coach than what I've had in the minors. Of course it's a little different in college ball. He doesn't need to deal with temperamental athletes as much. Bell makes you feel like you're playing for him and that's a big deal in college. Guys'll bust their asses for him. I'm not surprised you guys are doing so well. He's been there just long enough to get the right players for every position."

"How is it?" Andy asked.

"The minors? It's fine. It's a lot more like work. It's about money and it's about business. I'm a property. My only value is whether or not I can help the team move up, which means I move up. You got a few seasons to do it. If you don't get noticed and get an offer by then you find there are a half a dozen guys looking to play your position."

"You going to the Bigs?" Andy asked.

"I've been looked at. I had a scout from the A's follow me a week or two before I was injured. The White Sox have nibbled around the edges. With the Rangers next door, I'm close to the action. Their guys are always watching our games. I feel good about my chances, but it's best not to jinx yourself with loose speculation. There's so much wheeling and dealing these days, you might be drafted one day and traded the next."

"Cool," Andy said. "I always felt you'd make it. Draft me. Trade me. Just don't ignore me."

"You coming out this year?" Bobby asked.

"Me? No, I'm staying for my senior year. I've never been on a team as good as this one. I want to ride a winner for as long as I can. I might never get another chance." Andy said.

"Yeah, it would be hard to leave a winning team. When I left there were no great prospects for my senior year."

"You thinking about going on past college ball, Dooley?"

"I played baseball to get to come to school. I don't plan to play after college."

"You're hitting a little better than last year but it would be tough for you to find a minor league team that wants to give a spot to a guy who can't hit. You still might pick up some tips along the line. You're only a sophomore. I wouldn't give up on it yet. Someone might take a look at you."

"Nah, Bobby. I got a scholarship at State to play ball. If I could have afforded it without playing ball I wouldn't have been happy with that."

"Oh, yeah, I don't believe that for a minute," Andy quipped.

"I'm not saying I don't like it. It's not what I came to school to do. Being on a winning team and playing well is a lot of fun but I don't have an illusion about going on past college. No one's going to look at me so it doesn't matter," I said.

"What are you going to do after school?" Bobby asked.

"I don't know?" I confessed. "Go where the bucks are. Maybe open a small business. I've got plenty of time to figure that out."

We went to get a soda and mostly talked about Bobby Henry's baseball career. He'd grown quite a bit since I'd last seen him in high school. He wasn't much taller but he'd gained ten or fifteen pounds of gristle. His arms bulged in the dressy pullover shirt he wore and he looked good and sounded happy.

Andy was more interested in baseball than I was and it was a subject they both enjoyed talking about. The fact Bobby knew Andy's statistics was impressive and proved he followed his old college team with some interest. When he said that Monty appeared to be the most likely to succeed beyond college, Andy lost interest in his opinion and it didn't take long for us to be saying goodbye.

It was after this exchange that I realized Andy was taking his demotion in the hitting lineup harder than he'd indicated. Bobby said he wasn't surprised that Coach Bell moved Monty to hit cleanup. That one spot shouldn't make a difference but batting cleanup was still the position the best hitters coveted. While I wanted to encourage him, I didn't want to bring up the subject again.

That left only one way to entertain him without needing to talk baseball. I got him back to the house and we made love for most of the afternoon but had to get up to shower and get ready for a meal at the local Italian restaurant. Andy's appetite still showed no signs of distress and I wasn't sure if there was a serious problem or simply unhappiness.

Once we got back home and into my room, there were only two things we could do, if you disregarded sleep, and I was still more than satisfied with our most recent sexual exploits.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked him as he lay back on my bed with his head on my pillow.

"Not particularly," he replied.

"Andy, it's not a big deal. Monty and you aren't that far apart in hitting, homers, and runs batted in. You'll get the spot back before the season is over."

"That shows what you know. It is a big deal. Anyone comes looking is going to be looking at the guy the Coach has in the cleanup spot. Monty will get the attention and I'll just be the guy that bats behind him. It's only my future. You might not plan to play past college but that's all I've ever planned."

"How many guys are playing college ball right now?"

"Thousands," Andy answered.

"How many do you think are going to go beyond college ball?"

"Doesn't matter. I plan to and that's what matters. That's why every advantage you can get is important. Hitting cleanup gets you more attention and a closer look. I want every advantage I can get."

"You were pissed off because you had to wear glasses, but if you hadn't worn the glasses you wouldn't be in the lineup."

"I was immature and didn't know how much of a difference they'd make. It never occurred to me that it would be the difference between playing and not playing. That was a long time ago. We're having a banner year. I'll be a senior next year and we should be even better. Scouts are bound to come looking because we are playing winning ball."

"Yeah, well, they'll see you. All you can do is the best you can."

"I know. I've worked hard. I don't want to lose my shot if I can do anything about it," he said a little forlorn.

"Well, you've got another advantage over Monty," I said.

"What's that?"

"You are way cutter than him," I bragged.

"You better say that," he said, grabbing for me. "Besides, you've got to say that to your lover. You better say that."

"Truth hurts and you're way nicer than he is."

"And I got you," he said, kissing me as I leaned across his chest. "And you're way more handsome than Monty, too."

"You better say that," I said as he kissed me passionately.

We slept well that night, once we got around to it.


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.
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