Date: Thu, 31 Mar 2011 01:25:40 +0000
From: Douglas DD DD <thehakaanen@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Perfect Game   Chapter 7

In this chapter Eric and Scott get to know each other a little bit better, and
got to see a lot more of each other. Both of them liked the view. Things
don't go quite as well for Marty who does not react to bad news well. For
those of you who are tired of too much sex and not enough baseball (there
might be somebody like that, you never know), baseball games will be
coming soon, but the boys on the team will be getting to know each other a
little bit better before that happens.


CHAPTER 7
FIRST CUT

Thursday at school was pretty much a routine school day. Scott didn't bring
up what was on his mind on the way to school nor did he do so during the
day. Eric figured it would come up that night after they finished their
homework.

While it drizzled some in the morning, the weather wasn't as bad as the day
before. The boys walked to school figuring a baseball hat and a jacket would
be good enough protection and they were right. By early afternoon it was dry
enough that the fields could be groomed for practice. They weren't in game
shape, the outfields were soggy in places and there was a puddle behind
shortstop on the JV infield, but it was good enough for practice and much
better than being indoors. Many players brought their own bats for batting
practice, turning them in to the coaches before school.

After practice Coach Sanders said that Coach Ecklund would be talking to
the varsity about which players would be on the JV field starting Friday. He
reminded everybody that there would be a 10 o'clock practice on Saturdays
until they started playing games.  He then dismissed them.

"Are we going to shower?" Eric asked Scott as they walked to the gym,
hoping for a yes answer.

"Nah. Let's head straight home." Scott wanted to see Eric naked, but he
wanted it to be on his own terms, not in the steamy locker room with
everybody else looking on. The rest could look at his blond friend some
other time, but not this time. The first time he saw the cute boy who was his
best friend without his clothes on would be with the two of them being alone
together.

Eric was a bit disappointed again, but he went along with his friend. He was
curious to find out about what Scott wanted to talk about. He had been
thinking about it all day, and maybe it was best to find out what it was as
soon as he could.

Suddenly he heard a voice call out, "Sponge Bob Square Pants? No way you
are wearing Sponge Bob underpants." The voice belonged to Marty and he
was commenting on what Kevin was taking off in the next aisle over.

"Nobody's said a word about our undies all week, so I figured somebody
would if I wore these old things. They barely fit me, but it got you saying
something. And they're better than those red and white briefs Kraig is
wearing." The twins loved wearing all different kinds of underpants, and
loved showing them off and getting comments. Kevin was somewhat
disappointed that nobody had said a thing in the locker room, though some
boys and girls asked for peeks during the school day. So, he decided to go
way out of the norm to see who would say something. It figured it would be
the perv seventh grader, Marty. He pulled them off so Marty could see him
naked, which he knew Marty would like. Kraig was naked now, too, and they
grabbed their towels and headed for the shower.

As they passed Eric, Kevin had a comment. "Nothing wrong with going
home clean and smelling fresh," he told Eric. Actually, he wanted to see Eric
naked, because he truly was a cute looking boy. Kevin had no problem in his
mind with seeing boys as cute.

Marty was following right after the twins, but he too stopped at the lockers of
Eric and Scott. Marty was naked and also made no attempt to cover his junk.
Eric noted that the seventh grader wasn't hard this time.

"Which field are you going to be on tomorrow?" Scott asked Marty.

For a moment, Marty lost his bravado. Then he perked up, but not quite to
his usual hyper level. "The coaches here at this school are so lame. They said
I need to work on things and I should go to the JV field. Fuck, I was the
second best hitter on the JV team last year as a sixth grader on a fucking
good team. So what the fuck is it I fucking have to work on?"

"So you're one of the ones coming down?" Scott asked.

"Fuck. You guys need all the help you can get. Yeah, I'm coming down to
help you out. For now. But if those coaches had their eyes open they'd
know I'm as good as most of those eighth graders. But I'll be back up
before this season is over---show the assholes how wrong they are."

Eric could almost tell how down Marty was by the flaccid state of his dick. It
was hanging smaller than he'd ever seen it. Scott thought the same thing. He
wasn't surprised that Marty had been cut from the varsity field. He saw
Marty the same way Steve did, a jock with a lot of talent but not a lot of drive
to be his best.

"When we gonna do some shit again?" Marty asked, in an attempt to be
himself and in control and to embarrass Scott, to make him look like less in
the eyes of Eric.

"Dunno. It's pretty busy right now," Scott replied.

"More like your boooooooy friend won't give you permission. Cya,
Scottie."

"C'ya, perv." Marty flipped Scott off and went to the showers.

Scott couldn't help but look at Marty's solid ass as he headed for the
shower. He and Eric put on their jackets and grabbed their backpacks and
headed out of the door.

"What did he mean about doing shit again?" Eric asked Scott as they headed
off of the school grounds.

"Nothing."

Eric waited for more, but Scott said no more, and he blanched a bit inside
that Scott wasn't ready to trust him like a real "best friend" yet. He walked
along side Scott in silence for a while, waiting for Scott to be the first to talk,
but Scott said nothing as they walked in the gathering darkness. It ended up
being Scott who finally broke the silence.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"You aren't saying much. That's not like you."

Eric decided to skirt the issue that was bothering him at the moment, Scott's
not trusting him, and go to the other issue that had been bothering all day, his
chances of making the baseball team.

"We're going to have all those seventh graders at practice tomorrow and I
don't see how I can beat them out for a spot on the team."

"For somebody who can be so confident, you sometimes sure don't believe
in yourself. Mr. Z was my summer coach the last two years and he says if
you believe in yourself and do your best you can never blame yourself for
things not going right."

"Whatever. If somebody is better you can believe in yourself all you want
and still not make the team."

"But you're good enough. I know most of those seventh graders. Some of
them played on a team only because nobody gets cut in summer ball.
Everybody gets to play somewhere."

"Yeah, but a lot of them played last year on the JV team, right? So they'd be
the first ones picked."

"Look, silly. Last year the Varsity was heavy on eighth graders and they were
league champs. The JV didn't have a lot of seventh graders. So this year's
eighth graders didn't make the team last year, so there will be lots of seventh
graders on the varsity.  Besides the eighth graders are a sucky class. Just
check out summer ball. Us sixth graders had good teams, the seventh graders
were okay, and eighth graders really sucked. Marty is about as good
anybody in the seventh grade, and if he worked at it he'd probably be still
with the varsity. You're good dude. You're a great second baseman and you
looked good pitching from the mound. You're gonna make it, you wait and
see. Now, have a positive attitude."

Of all the good friends Eric had at his old school, none of them propped him
up and made him feel good like Scott could. Usually he was the one doing it
for them. For now his annoyance at Scott's not answering his question was
buried under the good warm feeling that only a good talk with a good friend
could give.

"This town is huge on baseball," Scott said. "It's our best sport. Three state
championships by the high school, even if it's been awhile since the last one.
Championships by our best summer teams, and a couple of league
championships by the mighty Mayfield Middle School Titans. People come
to watch us play. I know I was always at a Titans game or a high school
game when I was in grade school...well...at least when the weather was
nice," he added with a chuckle.

They once again walked in silence, a little more comfortable with the silence
than they had been a while ago. "Hey, there's your house. Wave at it," Scott
said.

Eric smiled and waved and then they were at Scott's house. Scott's mom
had closed her office a little early and had her phone calls forwarded home.
She greeted them both with a big smile and told Eric how happy she was he
was coming over to have dinner and do homework with Scott. She didn't
embarrass Scott by saying so, but in the month since he'd made friends with
Eric his grades and attitude about school had been on the rise. He'd always
been a good average student, but now the Cs were turning into Bs and the Bs
were turning into As.

"How long before we eat?" Scott asked. "We didn't shower at school and
we need to get cleaned up."

"You really should shower up after practice," Scott's mom said, not being
able to resist a friendly motherly nag. "Last I heard they have a showers in
the locker rooms, and it is much healthier to shower and get the sweat off of
yourselves. Lindy should be home real soon, so figure a half hour. We're
having spaghetti," she added for Eric.

"Cool. I love spaghetti," Eric said.

The boys dashed up the stairs to Scott's private upstairs enclave. They threw
down their backpacks and took of their coats, tossing them on the floor.

"So, who gets to shower first?" Eric asked. He was secretly hoping Scott
would say, "Let's do it together." He had never showered with somebody in
the same shower as opposed to a locker room. Suddenly he wanted to do it,
and do it with his best friend.

Scott so wanted to say, "Let's do it together." He'd showered with Marty
going back to that first time last summer just before school started and he'd
showered a couple of times with Danny after soccer practice last fall when
they were in a hurry. While he and Danny had jerked off together a few times
nothing happened into the shower except for their washing each other's
backs and butts. Both times they had jerked off before going into the shower.
But as much as he wanted to say it, to tell Eric they should do it together, he
couldn't. His whole body was in conflict as pubescent hormones were
coursing through him at the same time he found himself fighting off feelings
about the slender little blond haired boy in front of him that he couldn't
understand.

"You go first," Scott finally croaked out. He could see Eric's body sag ever
so slightly and was about to change his answer when Eric said, "Okay. I'll be
quick."

Eric pulled off his t-shirt, yanked off his practice sweats, standing before
Scott clad only in his white briefs and white socks. He took a deep breath
and pulled off his briefs, letting Scott see him naked from the ankles up.
Scott let out a slight involuntary moan when he saw the beauty of the boy in
front of him.

"Did you say something?" Eric asked.

"No. Just had to hiccup."

Eric could feel himself rising and he quickly turned to cross the hall to the
bathroom.

"The towels are in the cabinet on the left," Scott said as Eric hustled out.

Scott was now rock hard and he knew he still would be when Eric came back
unless he did something about it quickly. But, he didn't want to do
something about it. He wanted to keep feeling whatever it was he was feeling,
because it just plain felt so good.

In the shower Eric was now rock hard as well. He wished Scott was in the
shower with him. He thought about jerking off, but knew he had to shower
quickly. Well, it's not like Scott had never seen him hard, at least under his
clothes. He washed quickly, stepped out of the shower, and dried himself,
wrapping the towel around him even though Scott had assured him that
neither his sister nor his mother ever came upstairs, at least not without
yelling out they were on the way up.

He came into the bedroom, wondering for a moment if he should pull his
clean briefs on under the towel. Then he said, screw it, it's not like nobody's
ever seen him with a hard dick before. When he looked at Scott he saw that
his friend was clad only in his boxers and that they were tented out. So Scott
had a boner, too.

Eric let the towel drop to the floor and reached into his backpack for his
briefs.

"You've got a boner," Scott said.

Eric felt himself turning red. "Duh. So do you. It happens."

Scott pulled off his boxers and now both boys stood facing each other,
naked and hard. "Yeah," Scott said, "it happens. I'll be right back."

Instead of getting dressed, Eric sat on Scott's bed his dick pointing right at
him. He played with his balls a little, stroked his dick a little, and waited for
the return of his friend. He heard the shower go on, heard it run, heard if go
off, and soon saw Scott come back in, carrying his towel, still sporting a
hard on. The two boys quietly looked at each other, Scott standing next to
his bed, Eric lying on it.

Eric saw a boy with dark brown hair, slender, athletic, smooth, with an innie
belly button and nice, solid looking ass. His hair was wet, but was usually
longish and thick when it was dry, an unruly mop head that Scott sometimes
could tame and sometimes couldn't, depending on how long he let it grow.
His cheeks had light, sparse freckles.

Scott saw a boy with golden blond hair, straight, kept fairly neat, yet always
with a stray cowlick popping up without Eric's permission. He saw Eric's
smooth skin, not a hair on it, not a blemish. Eric also had an innie. He
thought Eric was beautiful and was embarrassed for thinking so. He wished
Eric would stand up so he could see that his butt was like. As if reading his
friend's mind, Eric got up off of the bed, showing off his white, smooth,
bubble butt.

"I figured I shouldn't be the only one naked when you got back," Eric said.

"Good thinking," Scott said hoarsely.

Like they had two nights before, they got quiet and sat looking at each other,
admiring what they saw, wondering why their bodies felt so hot, feeling the
hormones course through their veins.

Eric's four inch cut dick was so hard it almost curved back on his belly. His
balls were tight to his body. Scott's four and a half plus cut boy cock was
equally hard, his smooth balls starting to hang some.

"Yours is bigger," Eric said.

"Yeah, but yours is pretty nice."

"It is?"

Scott realized what he had just said, and blushed. "I mean, like, for a dick,
and all."

It was Eric who asked the question they had both been thinking. "Do you,
you know, play with it?"

"You mean jack off?"

"Um...yeah...jack off." Eric's voice was almost a whisper.

"Yeah. Do you?"

"Yeah, whenever I can."

"Me too."

"Does any, you know, any...um...anything come out of it?"

"Sometimes lately. When I'm really, really horny I get a clear drop when I
cum."

"Cool. Really cool. I still shoot blanks." Eric had heard the term bandied
about at his old school and he knew what it meant.

"You'll do more soon. I just started getting the drops a month ago." In fact
his first one had come out the last time he had jerked off with Marty, but he
was so surprised by Marty cumming all over him he didn't think about what
it all meant until he got home.

Eric, who was being braver than he felt, was thinking of asking the next
question that needed to be answered when the boys heard a voice from
downstairs saying that dinner was ready.

"Forget the undies, dummy," Scott said as he pulled on a pair of baggy
basketball shorts. Eric dropped his briefs on his backpack and put on his
sweats. Scott gave Eric one of his t-shirts and both boys pulled a t-shirt on.
They both stayed barefoot and headed downstairs to eat.


Marty sullenly gobbled down his food, not talking to his mom and wishing
his dad was there. He was probably guzzling beer with his buddies at
Norm's, and his mom just doesn't understand what it means to be sent down
to the fucking JV team, and life really sucked. Well, fuck them both. And
fuck my homework tonight. He finished his coke, then grabbed a couple of
cans out of the fridge. His mom was happy that he wasn't grabbing beer out
of the refrigerator because, considering the mood he was in, she would have
stopped him, which would have led to a big argument.

Marty did not grab any beer because he had bigger ideas. He went into his
dad's den and opened the liquor cabinet, pulling out a bottle of Bacardi's
rum. He was allowed to drink beer pretty much whenever he wanted to but
was told to stay out of the liquor cabinet.  He knew his dad watched the
bottles carefully, but he didn't care. This was different. The fucking coaches
pissed him off sending him down to the JV and he earned the right to get
drunk on his ass. He knew he liked rum and coke from a party he went to a
few weeks ago at Connor Lewis's house. And that fucker, Connor, made the
varsity, which pissed him off even more. Damn, he got good and wasted
there that night; it took him two days to get over the hangover. And that was
what he wanted to do tonight, just go up in his room and get as drunk as he
could.

He grabbed the rum, hoping his dad wouldn't miss it, but if he did, so what?.
He took it and the Cokes and a glass up to his room and shut the door. He
knew he had some homework, but it could wait until some other time to do.
Tonight was going to be all about getting drunk. He wished he had
somebody to get drunk with, but it was a school night and none of his
friends would be able to get away with it, except maybe Andy, but he knew
his mom didn't like Andy because she thought to use and deal drugs. Marty
knew it was more like he DID use and deal drugs. Hell, he bought weed off
of him whenever he could and had gotten high in his dumpy house with him.

Marty wasn't sure how strong to mix the drink, so he mixed about a quarter
rum and the rest coke and got into the old leather recliner by the window and
started drinking and thinking. He had put on a couple of CDs and he was
now going to just drink and chill out. He was sitting in just his boxers and a
sleeveless sweatshirt. He slowly sipped the drink as he looked out the
window. The taste was okay, but he liked beer better. He was glad he had
mixed it they way he did.

He couldn't understand why the coaches cut him off of the varsity. He had
been one of the leading hitters on the JV last year as a sixth grader. He led his
summer team in hitting. He was a good fielder. They told him he needed to
work harder and improve his attitude; he should work to get more serious
about what he was doing. They said there some things he needed to improve
on and the JV was the place to do it. They told him that Coach Sanders
would tell him what things to work on.

What the fuck did they know? He ran his laps hard, he did what they told him
to do, and he didn't talk back, and he had fun with everybody out there. It's
not like he had a big chip on his shoulder like Ron Gomez, who thought his
shit didn't stink. And he was still there. But of course, he was an eighth
grader and that must make him something special. Well, fuck them. He was
going to get drunk tonight just because then he wouldn't have to think about
anything, and then tomorrow he'd work to show them he belonged on the
varsity. Nobody said he couldn't work his way back up. He would have to
look good around all those sixth graders and the loser seventh graders that
were sent down. He didn't belong with any of them. He was better than all of
them.

He drank down his drink faster, and suddenly it was gone. He got up and
mixed another one and pulled off his boxers. He might as well jerk off while
he was sitting around just getting drunk. He rubbed his balls and then started
working on his flaccid dick to get it hard. He thought about the sex he'd had
and the sex he wanted to have has he worked himself to hardness. Even in his
lousy mood he could get his 13 year old cock to respond. All too often it
responded even when he didn't want it to, but he always knew what to do
about that.

 He thought about last August, just before school started, and the shower
with Scott and the fun they had other times. He had made Scott feel good a
lot of times, and now ever since that cute new sixth grader moved in the
ungrateful fucker wouldn't do anything. Did he think that the new kid was
cute? Girls were cute. No, they were sexy. Boys could be cute but not sexy.
Fuck, he didn't know. He needed so drink faster to he could figure it out.

He continued to slowly rub himself, not yet ready to work himself into a
frenzy, as his mind moved from baseball to sex. Steve was fun to jerk off
with. Steve shot so much cum and his dick and balls were hairy and he had
underarm hair and everything. But what did he want do that was more than
just jerking off? Oh, yeah, he wanted to trade blow jobs. That would be gay
shit, but Steve said it wasn't gay shit and Steve was the big jock so he should
know. And they did jerk each other off, so what difference would it make if
they did one more thing? Maybe jerking off Scott's dick was gay shit, too,
but he was only a sixth grader so how could that be gay? He was just helping
a kid out and the kid was helping him out. But sucking a dick? And having
Steve suck his? And cumming in a mouth? Damn he wanted to get his dick
sucked bad, but getting it done like that was what faggots did.

Then there was Kathy who he got pretty far with. He got her top and bra off
and she let him feel up and suck on her titties and she even gave him a BJ
even if she wouldn't let him cum in her mouth, but Steve said he would let
him cum in his mouth. Shit. He knew Steve wasn't a faggot, so it had to be
okay, right? He realized his glass was empty, so he got up and mixed more.
He should've brought some fucking ice up. At the party the rum and cokes
had ice in them and tasted better. Well, maybe it would taste better if he
added more rum this time.

He sat back down, took a big sip, and then put the glass on the stand next to
the chair. Fuck, he'd mixed that strong.

So where was he? Yeah, sucking Kathy's boobs. Then there was that time he
and Steve got naked with Cindy and Becky, those hot eighth grade girls.
Fuck that was one fun time rolling around in a big bed and shit, all four of
them so hot and horny. He got to titty fuck Becky and cum all over her. That
was so hot. And he got that sixth grader, Valerie whatever, how he got her to
suck his dick at that party and he was ready to cum in her mouth and she spit
out his dick and got mad and shit saying he was gonna cum in her mouth
without telling her. Well, it would have been better than blowing his wad on
the carpet with half the kids at the party watching him do it. But she was
good looking even if she didn't have any boobs yet. He could tell because
she was topless and sucking his dick right there in the living room until she
spit it out. Bitch!. He was wasted, but not so wasted he couldn't cum, even if
it was on the rug. He'd been so wasted at a party he couldn't cum a couple
of times and that was no fun. Even cumming on the rug was better than that.

And then there was the time when he was nine that only Steve knew about
and said didn't count and the time when he was 10 that nobody knew about.
Nobody. He took a hard swallow of his drink. He was feeling no pain. His
whole face was numb, his body was numb, his mind was numb. All his
coaches were kicked out of his mind. That's what he wanted, to kick all the
bad shit out. Like when he was 10. But was that bad shit? He did it more than
once. But would he do it again, now? Now that he was older?

No, he wouldn't, not in any way. He took another drink. No, no he wouldn't
do it. But as he grabbed his dick again, he could see himself doing it and
wanting to do it. No...no...no...no. NO!

The room started to spin around. He needed to get to his bed. He got up off
the chair and fell to the floor. He got on his hands and knees and crawled to
his bed, but he couldn't get up into it. Fuck he was so wasted. Finally he was
able to pull himself up and flop down on the bed.

He lay on the bed as the room continued to spin. He could see Mortimer on
the shelf next to his bed. Good old Mort, who had been around since he
could remember. He was old and worn out but still loyal as hell, more loyal
than his so-called friends or his family. With every ounce of effort he had left
in him he reached up to the shelf and took Mort off of it, placing the teddy
bear next to him on the pillow. He couldn't remember how Mortimer got his
name, but he knew that when things really got shitty, the stuffed bear was
always there for him. The room kept spinning and he finally passed out on
top of the covers, desperately clutching the brown teddy bear. He never did
have his cum.

Next: "The Talk"

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