Date: Sat, 25 Nov 2000 15:59:15 -0800 (PST)
From: thinkamajig@webtv.net
Subject: Take Me Out to the Ball Game

It's true, I usually "head" to ManPark to give or receive some ... head.
But I sometimes go there to do some reading or writing.

This then is a story I wrote and, unlike the other installments, is a
work of fiction. Let's say it's Story Time in ManPark. After this I hope
to relate my most memorable experience there. For now, this will have to
be a diversion.

Take Me Out To the Ball Game

He was sitting at the far end of the bar. Todd, my baseball buddy, was
with me.

"He looks just like Brazen, doesn't he?" Todd was referring to my
favorite player, Kurt Brazing, by nickname.

"With about five or ten years added," I agreed.

"You like 'em older, anyway." Todd knew me well. "Go talk to him."

"You know I'm attracted to Brazen for his playing, not his looks," I
said. And I wasn't lying. Kurt was fair-haired and somewhat young. He
played third base. I'm more attracted to dark-haired, even bearded men.
They tend to be relief pitchers.

I'd followed Kurt Brazing's career since his rookie season on the
hometown team. He'd batted .298, hit 16 home runs, stole 32 bases and
had 98 RBIs. Of course he was named Rookie of the Year. That was five
years earlier but Kurt was still a favorite of mine.

"You know you've always wanted to see Brazen naked. Here's your chance,
if only with a stand-in. If you don't talk to him, I will," Todd
threatened. I knew he wasn't kidding so I walked over to the stranger.

"Ever heard of Kurt Brazing," I asked as I took a stool beside him.

"No."

"You look just like him. He's the third baseman for...." I named our
local team.

"Don't watch it," he said as he looked me over. "Is it a good thing,
looking like this guy?"

"Oh, definitely. I'm William."

"Roy," he said, extending his hand.

An hour later we were in my bedroom. Roy was kissing me on the neck and
pulling at my shirt-sleeves.

"How brazen of you," I teased but he didn't get the joke. I reached for
his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. His chest, as I expected, was
smooth and muscled. Roy continued kissing my neck then moved down to my
ribs and navel.

"I love that," he said, his tongue then licking the circle of hair
arrayed around my navel. He undid my belt and zipper, massaging my
hard-on through my jeans against my thigh. His mouth dipped down and his
nose dug into by pubic bush until he found my cock and brought it out
with his tongue.

I was combing my fingers through his hair and imagined it was Brazen
there with me. I moaned softly.

"You like that, Will? I can do better," he said and pulled my pants the
rest of the way down and off, knocking me back onto the bed.

He stood and removed his own pants then slid beside me onto the bed.

"It's all right if you think I'm this baseball player," he whispered
into my ear as he nibbled and kissed it. I was kneeding his firm ass
cheek as his cock rubbed against my hip. "You want more than your hand
on that ass, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do." I was thinking of Brazen crouched over third base with me
fucking him from behind. But first I wanted him to fuck my face. "But
first I want your dick in my mouth."

Roy raised himself to his knees then crawled onto me, staying low enough
that his pendulous balls dragged across my own and onto my stomach and
chest. His cock was quivering and moist as it came closer to my face.
The ridges and muscles were well-defined. The head was fat and knobby,
perfect for gentle chewing. I took it into my mouth eagerly. My hands
went to his hips and guided him into a rhythm. When he'd found it, my
hands reached back into the crack to find his puckered asshole.

With my tongue gulping his meat down my throat and my finger working his
clenching hole, he began to grunt and gasp. I didn't want him coming too
soon so I grabbed at his hips again and moved him from my still flicking
tongue. I planted his ass firmly onto my dick and plunged upward with my
hips. I could practically see his balls shrink as the load left them and
spiralled toward his throbbing head. His precum already splashing onto
my stomach, I plunged upward one more time and he came as I did,
covering me with a wonderful white shower.

Three weeks later I was at the ballgame in my usual seat, front row,
slightly past third base. It was a rare day game and Todd wasn't able to
make it to the game. I was remembering Roy's tight ass as I watched Kurt
crouch to grab a ground ball and make the last out of the top of the
eighth inning.

It was a scoreless game thus far, a pitcher's duel. Kurt was due to bat
second in the bottom of the eighth.

The first batter singled which brought Brazen to the plate. The first
pitch was a ball, outside. The second pitch was inside, ball two. Swing
and a miss. Another swing and a miss. The next pitch was exactly like
the first had been. The umpire this time, however, called it a strike.

Kurt, usually the epitome of restraint, wheeled around and exploded. I
couldn't hear what exactly was said but Kurt's body was shaking. The
crowd too was going wild as the manager came out of the dugout to
intervene.

But it was too late. The umpire was pointing to the dugout and I knew
Kurt had been ejected for only the second time in his major league
career.

And I knew how I could get that look at Brazen in the showers that I'd
dreamed of for five years. As if pulled by a puppeteer's strings, I was
over the railing and running onto the field, aiming for second base.
About halfway there, I heard the crowd's booing at the umpire turn to
cheering for the fool on the field, me. When I reached second base I
kept going toward the security guards who were coming toward me.

As I knew they would, having witnessed other idiots go onto the field,
they escorted me down the steps of the dugout and through the door into
the home team's locker area. I was tingling from the adrenalin of my
spontaneous job but now was tingling double that amount because my goal
had been met.

Kurt was standing at a locker across the long room, his back to me, his
shirt already off. He was undoing his uniform pants. He heard us enter
the area and turned as he lowered his trousers.

My eyes opened extra wide when I saw that my imagination had cheated me.
Kurt was hairier than I'd guessed, a rich splay in the center of his
chest that reached out past his nipples and up onto his pecs.

My eyes were doing double-time, darting back and forth from the glorious
chest to the bulging jock strap that was revealed when the pants came
off.

"Someone going the wrong way on the basepath," the guard explained as we
passed through the room. As if I weren't already speechless, Kurt looked
at me and winked.

"We all break the rules sometimes," he said.

I had no time to respond as I turned for one last glorious look then was
led through another door. My last glance was Brazen's exposed ass as he
turned away, still wearing that protruding jock strap.

A patrol car was waiting outside and I was taken to police headquarters
eight blocks away from the stadium. I was charged with trespassing and
put into a cell while the paperwork was filled out.

About a half hour later a police guard came to the door.

"You're OUTTA here," he said, opening the door. I stood to leave.
"That's a joke," the guard said, having gotten no response from me. "I
know what you're in here for."

Again I didn't respond. I was still studying the recent memory, burning
it into my brain, Kurt all but nude at his locker. As I stepped into the
lobby of the station, I worried that my brain was doing too good a job.
It looked like Brazen, out of uniform, standing in the lobby. I shook my
head and blinked.

"The fine is only a hundred and fifty bucks," I heard him say. Sure
enough, the voice was that that I'd heard in the locker room and on
plenty of sports interview programs. "It's the least I could do for a
good fan, Bill." I preferred William or Will but he could call me Bud or
Mortimer!

"Th-th-thanks, Kurt, uh, Brazen, uh, oh, Mr. Brazing," I stammerred,
"but you didn't have to."

"I know. I wanted to," he said, appoaching me and taking my arm. "Let's
go before some fans show up."

Again I was speechless. Kurt explained, "I think you helped turn the
game around. We scored four runs after the commotion died down. And
Chico pitched a one-two-three ninth." He'd referred to the home team's
closer.

"That's great."

"Can I give you a lift to your car?"

"No, I walked," I said then quickly realized how a white lie would have
been in order. "I live just a few blocks fr...."

"Quick, get in," he said, opening the passenger door of the sportscar
parked in a loading zone there. Like going over the rail, I felt pulled
by a puppeteer's strings. Only this time I could see the puppeteer and
was ready to do anything.

"I can't believe I did that," I was saying to myself as he got in the
driver's seat.

"Get in the car? Jump on the field?" I wasn't sure myself what I'd
meant. See my hero in his jock strap at his locker was another option.

"I recognized you when you were led into the locker area," Kurt
continued. "Same seat, usually with a friend or two. You just didn't
like the thought of me being the only one kicked out of the game," he
said, half-teasing.

He started the car.

"Well, I have been a fan a long time. I remember your rookie year like
it was yesterday."

"Is that all you remember? That was quite a look you gave me in the
locker room."

"I - - I - -"

"I'm just checking your memory, seeing if there's something you missed."

"Well, I did miss the end of the game." I couldn't believe he'd read my
mind and could be flirting.

"We won, I told you. Did you enjoy the part you did see?"

"Very much," I said with conviction, meaning both the game and the
locker room.

"Wanna see what you missed?" I was jolted back into speechlessness.

"What do you mean?"

"I taped the game. We can see it at my condo."

Fifteen minutes later as we walked from his parking space to a private
door, Brazen again grabbed my arm as he had at the station lobby.

"The rules here are a little different. Think you can learn them?"

"Oh, I'm a quick learner," I said.

"First rule, you never mention having been here. Even to your friends.
My fan club gets upset."

"Got it."

He closed the door behind us and turned sharply to face me.

"Second rule, we play in the nude here. You're not shy, are you?" He
right hand found my crotch and cupped around it like it would a
baseball.

"Well, I was until the eighth inning," I said as I stepped forward and
threw my groin against his.

"You DO learn fast. I like that."

At the end of the hall was a sunken living room with windows that
overlooked the river and tree-covered bluffs. A big screen TV was
against one wall. Against another was a display case with many trophies,
Brazen's Rookie of the Year Award in the middle.

Kurt pulled some cushions off the sofa and onto the floor, found the
remote and hit rewind.

"Now for the part you didn't get to see earlier," he said, reaching for
his belt.

"May I?"

"You may. You can even throw out the first ball." He grinned as he
reached for my belt.

I unbotoned his shirt and buried my nose, then my tongue, into the
luxurious patch of straight hair there. As I reached my hand into his
waistline I could feel that he was still wearing a jock strap.

Kneeling and opening his pants I discovered how inadequate Roy had been
as a stand-in for Brazen. Kurt's dick was much firmer and larger around
than Roy's had been. His pre-cum smelled like sugar and tasted like
honey.

Hours later after much fucking and sucking and licking and coming, it
was time to go. Kurt gave me the jock strap for a keepsake. In the cab
ride back to my place I found a few other unintended souvenirs, some of
his chest hair between my teeth.

I think it helped that I wore the jock strap when Brazen played in his
first World Series a few months later. Of course, they won. Talk about
your good luck charms!

And I still can't tell Todd about that wild evening. But then, he
wouldn't believe me anyway so it's okay. Roy has been pursuing me but
can't figure out why my interest has so cooled.

And Kurt hasn't been ejected from a game since either. But I'm ready for
when it happens again.