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A Minor Success Book 5 of Outside the Foul Lines by Rick Beck Chapter Ten "Andy Time" Back to Chapter Nine On to Chapter Eleven Chapter Index Rick Beck Home Page  Young Adult Drama Sexual Situations Proudly presented by The Tarheel Writer - On the Web since 24 February 2003. Celebrating 21 Years on the Internet! Tarheel Home Page |
Waking up the second morning with Andy in my arms was better than the first. It did seem a little like we were back at State. Feeling him against me had me devoted to our togetherness. Andy slept on long after I woke up and it allowed me to enjoy the quiet. Love had never been so warm and wonderful.
The eight hour drive on the bus with scheduled stops for the usual body functions began at ten in the morning. In a car we could make it in closer to six hours and we would stop if we pleased. The plan was for me to drive, once we got up and on our way.
Andy woke up and rolled over to face me, wanting to kiss me. Our bodies rubbed easily in each other's arms. His warmth and smell always intoxicated me. His absence always frustrated me and his presence always delighted me.
"Do you know how much I love you?"
"No, tell me," I demanded, and he put his mouth on mine and we didn't come up for air for how long, I can't say.
"He's a nice guy," Andy said, lying on his back with his arms behind his head, after the loving had subsided for a few minutes.
"Coach Bell. Fine man. He was my coach at State. Didn't I tell you that?"
"Very funny, Do. Lane is a pretty cool dude."
"Ruggedly handsome… maybe. Pretty ... I doubt it."
"He's pretty, built like a Greek god, and he even has a personality. You know I want to hate him?"
"Andy, who in the hell are you in bed with?"
"Yeah, and after Sunday, when are we going to be in bed together again? How far away will I be? How close will he be? All that personality and the way he swings a bat, he's on the way, you know?"
"Yeah, I know now. I didn't know much before he told us at dinner. I've never asked. I'm his coach. He's my responsibility, when it comes to fielding. Anything else is inappropriate."
"It's not his fielding I'm worried about. He'd turn my head if I wasn't in love with you. I'm not sure I could turn him down. I bet his hung like a small farm pony."
"A big farm horse," I said, giggling at my knowledge and knowing it was going to get him angry over the fact.
"Bigger than me?" he demanded, feeling his manhood being threatened.
"Only wider and longer," I said, giggling some more. "I've never seen it in action but Lane takes a backseat to no one in the dick department. He's a big guy. If size were my only interest, he'd take the prize, Andy, but what you have is perfect for me. Just right. It's what I like and Lane is a big tease, as you've seen. I know more about the size of his feet and how poorly he's been trained to use them in the outfield. He's another big bat. Fielding was optional to all the bozos that saw him hit and knew he was a power hitting dream."
"I don't like he's here with you and I'm… I'm in fucking Lincoln."
"Well, it'll give you incentive to come see me if you get a break from therapy. Borrow the car again and you can drive it straight through and we'll have a couple of days if you do it over a weekend."
"Yeah, I didn't have any trouble getting the car. The coach seemed happy to make me happy. He was pissed when he found out about my wrist, but once he accepted it, he was okay. He didn't want to lose my bat. We aren't the team Louisville is. I can come back to see you maybe one more time. Can you arrange for me to dance with Lane some more?"
"No, I think you like it too much. I have no doubt you and Lane would be like two brute trucks in a demolition dery in bed, but I wouldn't want to take that chance. My luck, you'd both decide bigger is better and dancing is a walk in the park."
"You've got nothing to worry about, Do. You hold your own in the dick department."
"Yeah, but you haven't seen Lane nude. He would make most women weak in the knees imagining the possibilities. If I wasn't going with you it might be tempting."
"Oh, now the truth comes out. It's okay for you to be following Lane around, but when I might want some time with him, you get nervous."
"I'm not interested in Lane, dancing or prancing. He's cool. He's fun to be around. As a date, I don't think so. Not for me and certainly not for you."
"You've got me trained to respond to you. I have no desire to break in another lover. Bigger in most cases is not necessarily better. Nice decoration but relatively useless under many circumstances."
"Want to prove it?" I asked.
"Want to hold me?" he asked.
It was my favorite position. Holding Andy from behind gave me the full feel of his body. The way he'd tightened up and toughened up was obvious to me as I examined his body, each muscle, and every new centimeter he'd added in a professional program.
He got quiet and swelled to a familiar solid thickness, throbbing and oozing out pleasure, once I eased to the depths of bliss he provided by his very willingness to have me inside him.
The nicest part of a mid-morning go-round, it took me a bit to reach the height of ecstasy and I hung there for some time before the need to climax overtook my ardor for loving him in a way no one else could.
His chest expanded, his muscles tightened, and as I gasped out my everlasting devotion to him, he loaded my hand up with his joy for our favorite thing in the world of loving each other. Losing all connection to the world around us, Andy was all there was. His body, his enthusiasm, and his total relaxation against me once he'd drained himself in our latest linking.
He dozed and I held him, feeling him go from monumentally hard to half-hard to softening flesh in my fingers. It was rare for me to feel him soft. Andy's dick was a barometer and it was always hot and getting hotter when we were within reach of one another. I had no trouble believing he wasn't getting anything on the side.
Back at State, once we'd come back together after a summer a part from one another, it took two weeks for him not to want sex every time he saw me. It was this devotion to me and how he soothed the savage beast within me that told me we were going to be an item for as long as I wanted to hang in there.
Andy was not a great romantic. That's not to say he didn't demonstrate his love for me in a lot of ways, but he didn't come from an affectionate family, which made affection hard for him, except in the act of sex. Then, all bets were off.
His needs were many and his devotion without question if he knew I was in the room and he had an hour to spare. We'd often been late for practice, getting him in shape to last for a few hours, after going all day away from one another.
Andy was my man. Lane was nice and good for my eyes, but Evan Lane was never going to be devoted to anyone but Evan Lane. As nice a guy as he was, he could have anyone any time he wanted, so there was no desperation in him, when it came to desire. A wink, a point of his thick index finger, and most women and many men, straight or not, would gladly take him on. He was walking talking charisma with a bankroll. No, I'd never have tied myself to a man like him for love or money, but he was something to look at.
Who could blame him for taking advantage of what was offered him?
We got up close to the time the bus was leaving and Mrs. Olsen was ready with lots of coffee, bacon, and eggs. She packed roast beef sandwiches for Andy and tuna sandwiches for me with carrot and celery sticks and a bag full of V-8 juice drinks. She hugged 'Andrew' goodbye with tears in her eyes and told him to take care of his arm and not tackle anyone else, until after it healed.
Mrs. Olsen reminded me of the old fashion house mothers you see in movies from the days of house mothers in Frat houses. All her boarders became her boys and when one left, it was emotional for her.
In only a couple of days she'd happily adopted Andy, willing to go that extra mile to meet his needs, no matter what they were, except for dancing with Lane, after her feet were battered and bruised by the experience. She giggled when she looked in on Andy and Lane waltzing around the small sitting room.
She was a delight.
I was surprised Andy put up with the dancing. My determination to have him walk a mile in my shoes did nothing for his feet. Lane was an all purpose foot cruncher, having difficulty avoiding anything under his size fifteen shoes. If he was clumsy on the playing field, he was deadly on the dance floor. Both he and Andy took it all in good cheer.
The car drove fine as we were immediately on Route 65 heading north. West of Indianapolis on Route 70 west, we passed the bus in a rest area. There were Louisville ball players everywhere. It would take an hour to get them all back in the bus, I figured. At 70 miles an hour and no stops scheduled, we'd be in our room near the I-80 Truck Stop outside of Davenport by five.
Andy sat silent for the first half of the ride. He cradled the broken wrist in his left hand and I suspected it was giving him a little pain. He said nothing about it and he held my hand before we left Indiana for Illinois. He kissed my cheek outside of Champagne-Urbana, looking at me with passionate eyes.
"Let's wait until we get to the motel. Then we'll have until tomorrow morning to roll around in a nice soft bed."
"Obviously Louisville sleeps in better motels than Lincoln. All the rooms we stay in smell like mildew and the beds are like riding a swayback horse."
"What does it matter as long as we're together?" I said.
He kissed my cheek again. We turned north to intersect Route 80 in the middle of Illinois. I brushed his neatly trimmed hair back off his forehead. He leaned his face against my shoulder and went to sleep as we passed the fertile Illinois farmland newly planted.
It was going to be hard to watch him drive away from me. I realized my few days of heaven were coming to an end, and once more I'd need to endure being separated from the man I love. My heart fluttered and I fought back the tears. I hated this part of our lives. We were both exactly where we wanted to be, only we weren't together and how great could anywhere be if we were a part?
I kissed the top of his head and he squeezed my arm, snoring gently in the way he did, when he had fallen into a deep sleep.
I did love him so.
Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com
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