Date: Tue, 20 Jul 2021 11:25:02 +0000 From: Bill Drake Subject: Rec League Rec League Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail.com) NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ADULTS ONLY. Thanks to all the great work that the Nifty Archive does and the writers it publishes. Please consider supporting them with a donation. Feel free to drop a line if you enjoy the story: billdrake@hotmail.com. Rec League Bill Drake I lived, breathed, and dreamed baseball, ever since I was a kid. My dad taught me the love of the game. At least once a year he'd drive me to Boston, where we'd catch a game at Fenway. I collected cards, followed statistics, and watched games on TV all summer... at least when my mom wasn't making me go outside. I played, too, from little league on, but I never was a star athlete. My growth spurt hit late, around 16, and I lacked the natural hand-eye coordination a great player needs. Our high school didn't have a real team, either, but there was a summer rec league staffed by volunteer coaches. I was good enough to be a solid player for that, and I took it probably more seriously than a lot of the other guys, other than Luke Corman, who was for sure going to be on a college team. The best part of the league for me was our coach, Daniel Forrester. Coach or Mr. F to us. He was my buddy Ryan's dad, and like a lot of volunteer coaches, he'd signed up because his son was on the team and we clearly needed someone. He knew the basics of baseball, but his coaching was more about disciplining us to practice and rewarding us when we did well. I mean, I guess that's half of coaching in general, particularly for high school kids, but it wasn't like he was imparting much knowledge about either the strategy or the mechanics of the game. Luke would have to coast to his scholarship on his genetics and natural talent. I was a little frustrated for the first weeks Mr. F. coached us, but I chilled out. Besides, Mr. Forrester was hot as fuck. I was closeted but definitely and completely gay. A walking mess of teen hormones, I jerked off three or four times a day imagining what I'd do with a dude. Up to that point, I'd been obsessed with porn, and I was starting to worry it was spoiling me for real guys. Daniel Forrester cured me of that fear. He was sexier than any porn dude, at least in my eyes. Mid-40s, but still fit and young looking. He was about 5'10" and had a strong muscular body, like he hit the gym once a week maybe, enough to keep it up but not obsessive about it. All of him was great, from his thick thighs and strong ass to a broad back and big arms dusted with light brown fur. The best, for me, though, was his chest. It wasn't out of proportion exactly but his pecs were large and jutted out from his frame, big round swells that shaped whatever shirt the man was wearing. On top of which, he had thick juicy nipples that would frequently firm up with pointy tips that would poke out of his shirt. Mr. F. became the frequent and almost sole star of my JO sessions that summer. I dreamed of sucking him, fucking him, of licking those beautiful nipples. I even jerked out loads in the field house bathroom in the middle of practice, to relieve the pressure. It helped that the guy was affable and laidback. I mean, for him, it was just an activity to help out his son and by extension all of us. And he was naturally outgoing, one of those naturally supportive dads, and he bonded with all of us. Come mid June, early in our season, Mr. F came up to me toward the end of practice as we were wrapping up. "Got a minute, Evan?" "Sure," I said. "What's up?" "Can you keep this between us?" he said in a low voice as he stepped closer. God, the man was gorgeous. Brown eyes, brown hair cut in a typical businessman style, young-ish face for his age, killer smile. My heart pounded. "Definitely, Coach." My reply brought a bigger smile. "Um, you seem to know a lot about baseball," he prompted. I shrugged humbly but nodded. "Yeah, some." "Well, I was wondering if I could get your help. You know, maybe you could be my assistant." He paused and clarified, "I love coaching you guys but I have to admit I don't know the game that well." At that point I felt bad for being frustrated with Mr. F's coaching ability. He was just doing this to help out. "I'm happy to help, Coach," I said. "Only, if I'm playing the other guys can't know I'm helping." He nodded, and I could tell that hadn't occurred to him. "Of course, Evan.... You'd be helping me out a lot. What do you say coming to my place Sunday afternoon?" Sunday was our day off from practice and games. Like that, I had a standing appointment at Daniel Forrester's house each Sunday. He was divorced and lived in a townhouse in a nice subdivision. We'd have iced teas and sit out on his back patio under the shade umbrella and discuss the team and the game. Mostly it was me suggesting which players worked better in what position and the best batting order. But I also found myself giving Mr. F. a mini tutorial in the finer points of baseball. It was cool that he was open to my advice and sought it out. The best part for me is that Mr. F. was dressed even more informally those Sunday afternoons, usually just a loose pair of gym shorts that showed off his knotted hairy legs and a Dartmouth T-shirt that was snug enough to show off that beautiful chest. Thank god for sunglasses because I was able to sneak more than a peek at the man's body as we talked. I save up every detail in my memory banks for my stroke sessions later. During practice or a game, Coach treated me like any other player, other than his son. If anything he was more distant to me and started calling me by my last name, Bailey. But each Sunday Mr. F. treated me like a buddy, almost. It was our third meeting when I asked if he wanted to watch the Red Sox-Orioles game. They were playing an afternoon game, and not only did I want to watch it, I thought it would be a chance to talk to Mr. F. about the finer points of the game. Maybe it was a little forward to suggest it, but Coach readily agreed. "I'll order some pizza after, too, if you want some dinner. I'm afraid this bachelor doesn't know how to cook." "Sounds awesome, Mr. F," I agreed. I felt a little guilty for crushing out on the man, but I was able to play it cool and just enjoy watching a baseball game with him, on his couch, just us. That evening, I went home and stroked out a couple of loads fantasizing about Mr. F. The sex scenario in my head became more vivid, more detailed. Me going down on Mr. F, him going down on me, then him fucking me. That idea sent my balls pumping out. I enjoyed my fantasy life, and the time with Mr. F that fueled it, both at practice and at his house on Sundays. But I wasn't prepared for it becoming reality. I mean, yeah, I was turned on as the man sat real close to me as we watched video he'd taken of our swings at bat. I wasn't knowledgable like a batting coach, of course, but I explained to Mr. F what we were doing right and wrong, at least in basic terms. He looked me, serious but smiling. "I really appreciate you teaching me, Evan," he said. Maybe I was giving him a look of desire, too. I must have. Because with a smoothness, Mr. F inched forward and our lips met. Holy crap, it was my first real kiss, with a man no less, and it surpassed all expectation. Particularly when my lips parted and Mr F snaked his tongue inside. I felt light headed and excited and my cock grew erect in seconds. "What do you say we take this inside, buddy?" he smiled as he pulled back from our closeness. I looked down and saw he was hard, too, and that knowledge thrilled me. "Um, yeah," I agreed, and got a kick as I saw his eyes sweep down to my hardon, too. "You're a big boy," he winked. "So are you," I replied as we walked into the air conditioning and up toward his bedroom. I was nervous and excited, in equal proportion. Amazingly, Mr. F didn't treat me like some shy virgin, which I was grateful for. He was clearly horny, and horny for me. When we got to his bedroom he peeled off his T shirt matter of factly, showing me a gloriously furry torso and letting me see those magnificent pecs live in the flesh. A lump formed in my throat as I took them in, and I followed suit, taking off my shirt. "Nice, Evan," he said softly. "You got a great body." And like that he was shucking his shorts, and I saw his heavy hard dong plop out. Mr. F was hung all right. I mean, I only had porn dudes to compare to, really, at least for men in their erect state. Daniel Forrester could hold his own with those guys. "You, too, Mr. F." I was more nervous now as I copied him, but the way he looked down with enthusiasm at my cock gave me an ego boost. "This stays between us, you know," the man said seriously. "The others can't know. Ryan can't know." I had been too caught up in my horniness and surprise at the turn of events to process that Mr. F was gay, or at least bi. But as we squared off face to face, our dicks firm and throbbing, communicating mutual desire, I got the feeling that was the cause of his divorce, though his son didn't know. "No sir," I said. "The guys don't know about me either." Part of me was worried that if Forrester could tell I was into dudes, then my teammates could as well. But that was a concern for another time. Particularly as Mr. F was stepping up to me for another kiss. Now, our bodies connected, warm flesh, and Mr. F's fur against my smoother chest. Our dicks pressing against one another as we made out. My coach's hands began exploring my body, from my back to my sides to my ass. I followed his lead, taking the opportunity to feel up the man of my dreams. We began grinding our crotches together a little, and I loved that this middle aged man was just as horny, just as hard up as me. "Sit down on the bed," he finally instructed me, in a different voice, his bedroom voice. As a newbie to this, I was gonna follow Mr. F's lead. I didn't know for sure what experience he had with men, but he had experience with sex in general. I nodded and nervously sat on the bed's edge, where I had a good vantage of his magnificent, strong body. He smiled as he looked down on me. "You got a quick trigger, Bailey?" For some reason he switched to my last name. I liked it, it was almost a term of affection. "I don't know, sir," I said, unsure. I felt dumb, but I had only my stroke off sessions to go by, and I wasn't sure how quick I was to cum, compared to other guys. Mr. F nodded as he crouched down in front of me. "Just try not to come... let me know if you feel close." If this whole afternoon had been a strange playing out of my fantasy, I for sure wasn't expecting what happened next. Daniel Forrester gripped my boner and brought it to his lips. He gave a couple of soft licks and then took me into his mouth. I'd heard guys talking about blowjobs. Half the time they were bullshitting about which cheerleader blew them, though I'm sure a few of the guys had experienced them. But no matter how much my buddies had talked about getting head as the best sensation on earth, nothing prepared me for how amazing Mr. F's mouth would feel bobbing up and down on my cock. I leaned back halfway on my extended arm and enjoyed my first blow job. Only, too, quickly I wanted to cum. "Um... Mr. F..." I said in a worried tone. Instantly he backed off, blowing air on my cock, which twitched excitedly. I felt bad for not being able to hold off longer, but it was like the man expected my reaction. "You liked that," he said as much as asked. "Yes, sir. You're really amazing." I looked down to see him smile at the compliment then in a horny impetuous move go down to lick my balls. It was a turn on, but it wasn't going to get me off. I realized that was his plan. To keep me worked up for a little bit. "I'm glad I can teach you some things, Bailey," he growled, nuzzling my fuzzy nuts. "You think you can hold off a little longer?" "Yes," I announced. "Just go slow." "Aye aye," he said and like that Mr. F was back on my bone, giving me the most incredibly slow blow job. His gradual descent and ascent let me savor every millimeter of dick against his tongue. And to enjoy the sight of him going down on me. If this was a one-time thing for us, I wanted to be sure to remember this sight for my jackoff sessions later. Soon, all too quickly, even the slow sucking was bringing me to the edge. "All right, sir. I'm close." And like that, Mr. F spit me out. "You got a nice cock, Bailey." I loved his complement. "Not as nice as yours, sir," I replied truthfully. Forrester's prick was thicker and longer than mine. He stood up, showing me his beautiful erection. Not only did I enjoy seeing its shape and size up close, but there was something thrilling about seeing a real adult man's hardon. It was masculine and exciting. "Think you're up for returning the favor, Evan?" He stepped up closer, to where his dong pressed closer to my face. Not forcing it on me, but definitely pleading for me to suck him. I didn't know what I was doing, but I wanted to do Mr. F right. I gripped his cock, mirroring his actions from earlier. I gave a few licks, which elicited a heavy sigh from the man and urged me onward. "You're so fucking hot, Bailey," he purred. "I tried to keep my hands off you." His admission fueled my fire. I opened my lips and took Daniel Forrester into my mouth. His cock head was wide and sticky and hot. I loved it. My fear of what it would mean to suck a cock went out the window as I started stuffing more and more into my mouth, and I grunted back a choke as the dong touched the back of my throat. I felt his fingers softly on my head. "Easy there, tiger. We don't gotta rush this." I felt admonished and every bit as inexperienced as I was. But I was grateful for his instructions, which gradually turned into encouragements. "There, Bailey, that's it.... nice gentle rhythm.... your mouth feels real good.... Fuck I've been dreaming all summer about you sucking my cock.... You been wanting this too, buddy.... a little deeper now.... not too fast... yeah, I knew you could do it, bud..... nice deep strokes getting me hard as fuck." My real sense of accomplishment came after about five minutes, when Mr. F's voice got urgent and terse. "Pull off Bailey... now!" I was dazed a half second but was able to withdraw from his staff before he erupted. I watched excitedly as the man's thick rod pulsed and quivered. "Fuck, buddy, you had me THIS close," he growled, and he climbed onto the bed, lying down on the other side. "Come here," he gestured. And like that we were making out again, only this time was even better, the reclining position feeling even more sexual and our sexual excitement already keyed up. I was nearly breathless as Mr. F pulled back and reached over to his bedside table. He fumbled around and pulled out a tube of clear liquid. I lay back and watched as the man plopped it open and squirted a good bit out into his right hand. I thought maybe we were going to stroke off. In other circumstances I'd have been thrilled with that prospect, but after trading blow jobs I was disappointed we weren't going to get off that way. Forrester misread my expression for apprehension. "Come on, Bailey, please," he said. "Spread your legs." I did as he asked and as he reached between my open thighs and started applying the gel to my ass, I realized what he had in mind. It was my jerkoff fantasy come to life, but yeah I was a lot nervous. As my body started shaking, Mr. F calmed me. "Easy there, buddy. I wanna make us both feel good, OK?" I nodded. I so wanted to make Mr. Forrester happy, and seeing his handsome face look up at me, reading my own facial expressions as he fingered me, actually helped. Moreover, his fingers started feeling really fucking good pushing in and out of my asshole. Two, now three, prodding and twisting. Mr. F knew what he was doing. His eyes went from my face down to my ass then back up to my face. Expertly prepping me, breaking me in. "Going in for four now," he announced then slowly slipped in his pinky finger with the rest of the longer digits. It was intense and stretched me out, but I took it, too. Then he went back to three, then two fingers. Finally he used only his index finger to prod deep, rooting around for my internal gland. He found it. "Oh fuck, Mr. F," I grunted. "What the fuck?" "Yeah, you're ready," he smirked as he withdrew his hand and scooted up to guide his cock into me. It went in easily, I was so relaxed, but as he got halfway in, the knowledge I was getting fucked made me tight up. A certain fear. "Relax, Bailey, you got this," he said, reaching down to caress my smooth chest and abs. He leaned down and kissed me and that did it. My ass unclenched, and I felt more of his amazing dick sink into me. Mr. F held it deep in me, letting me getting used to getting filled, as we made out, hungry for each other. Finally he lifted up, almost in push up position, and started fucking me. Deep steady thrusts. Not hard, but with a dick his size they didn't need to be. I felt them, deep in my hole, stretching me out. Not exactly comfortable, but as he fucked more the sensations grew more pleasurable. Soon my prostate was quivering with each motion of his cock. He could read me, see me grow to love it. "You cherry, Bailey?" he asked excitedly. I nodded, looking into his brown eyes. God, this man turned me on. "Yes, sir. Sorry." I wanted to be experienced for him. Grown up. He thrust harder. I could tell he was turned on. "Don't apologize. It's an amazing gift you're giving me." He was getting more excited. "You're so fucking tight... it's not going to take me long." I gripped his arms and felt up his chest. Fuck, that chest was almost enough to get me off. "Me either, sir. I've dreamed of your cock." "Yeah, Bailey?" he growled. "I should have made a move on you earlier." "Oh fuck," I hissed. It was all feeling so good. Like I was going to cum any second, but somehow I wasn't there yet. Just worked up on an incredible pre-orgasmic plateau as I got my first fuck. "You like that idea?" he growled. "Yes, sir. I had no idea..." I couldn't complete my thought as another wave of pleasure overwhelmed me. "This stays between us, Bailey," Mr. F grunted, clearly climbing his own road to orgasm. "But I wanna fuck you the rest of the summer." Something about those words and the commanding tone they were spoken in and the fact it was Mr. Forrester saying them. I came. My dick rubbing against his fur and spurting out my young seed in heavy hard spurts. My orgasm egged Mr. F on, and he started jackhammering my hole. Almost unable to control himself. Fast heavy thrusts in and out and just like that he let out a loud groan and I knew I was being filled with my first load. Our lips met and we kissed off and on as we caught our breath. Finally, Mr. F pulled out, leaving me a little empty. He looked at me slyly as he patted my chest. "You're a quick learner, Bailey." He leaned up and I relished seeing his big cock in its half hard state, oozing cum. I knew there was plenty of semen shot up deep inside me. "I'm not exaggerating to say that was the best fuck of my life." My heart pounded. My head was swimming in hormones and pleasure and emotion. "I don't have anything to compare it to, Mr. F," I said. "But I can't see how it gets any better." "Dan," he said softly. "I just fucked you, Evan, you can call me Dan." "All right Dan," I said. He winked. "But if you wanna keep calling me Mr. F during sex, go ahead. It makes me feel like a dirty old man, I love it." I laughed. "I liked it when you called me Bailey," I admitted. "Kind of like a real Coach." "Ouch that hurts," Dan said making a theatrical expression like I'd stabbed his heart. "It's not like that, sir," I said quickly. "You know what I mean." "Yeah, Evan, I do." He climbed off the mattress. "Come on, let's shower up." I liked the closeness of showering with Mr. F almost as much as the fucking. Well, maybe they didn't compare in intensity or pleasure, but it was still awesome. We kissed and soaped up each other's bodies. I loved feeling his meaty soapy dick against mine. "I can't believe you're still hard," he grinned. I shrugged. "No way am I going soft anytime. You turn me on, Mr. F., I can't help it." Somehow his first name didn't come naturally to me. "Well I'm not 18 anymore, it takes me a while to recover," he said. "But I can help you out." With that he crouched down before me and started giving me head. It felt as amazing as before. I mean, it didn't have the element of surprise but I could focus on the sensations of his mouth better. I was slower in getting to that crucial point this time but soon I was warning Mr. F I was about to blow. He spit me out and sucked in a breath. "You don't gotta hold back this time, Bailey. Let it go." And like that he started sucking me again. I gave it up, shooting my sperm into his sucking mouth. It was a different kind of orgasm from jerking off and certainly from getting fucked. It was wonderful in its own way. I knew I'd want a lot more of this. He stood up, a little proud of his sucking ability I could tell. We kissed and I could taste the bitter remnant of my seed on his tongue. "There, that gonna hold you off till next time?" I nodded. "Oh yeah." I could tell he was feeling a little hesitation now that we'd coupled. "Don't worry, Dan. I'm not gonna tell anyone. Honest." He smiled and reached under my chin to grab it playfully. "You're a good man, Evan. I meant what I said. I wanna do a lot more with you this summer." "I'd like that," I answered enthusiastically. "I think we worked up an appetite for that pizza. What do you say?" Time had flown and it was close to dinner time all right. We got dressed again and ate while watching a baseball game. "What time you gotta get back?" Dan asked somewhere in the 4th inning. "No particular time." My parents gave me my independence in the summer. As long as I was home by 10, that was fine. "I can't be out too late though." Mr F got a quiet look, like he was thinking something over. "I'm being greedy," he said softly. It occurred to me what he was thinking. "You want to fuck me again." It was amazing to see how I'd shifted my attitude in a few hours. I'd gone from nervous about sex to being up front about it. I'd lost my virginity and was feeling very happy about that fact right then. Dan nodded. "You feeling sore down there?" "Just a little," I answered, "not too bad. I want to feel you in me again, sir." We were kissing once more. I couldn't believe I'd had sex for the first time and here it was about to happen again. We didn't rush it this time, taking the time to explore each other's bodies and to slowly strip off our clothes. Mr. F didn't seem eager for us to move to the bedroom. Instead we lay on the couch, Mr F on top of me, like before. There were probably more positions to explore, but this one felt right. I was taller than Mr. F by an inch or so but he had more muscle and I loved feeling it over me as we kissed. Mr. F seemed to love kissing, and I know I sure did. I was feeling more turned on and I felt my legs spreading wider, letting the man in between them. "Evan Bailey..." he said looking down on me as he scooted forward to line up his cock to my hole. "You hot fuck." His dick was wet with precum and I felt him nudge in and out of my pucker, wetting me down before finally pressing forward. "Oh fuck!" I grunted. My hole was recently opened up and I didn't have the tightness of before. But Dan's a big man, and I felt overwhelmed by the penetration. Dan looked down on me, chastened. Holding still, then giving only the slightest in and out movements in my ass. "You're a real trooper, Bailey," he said. "God, I love fucking you." I nodded that he could give me more, and he did, now slowly pumping me. It had the effect of drawing out some of his earlier cum load, and that helped with the lubrication. "I love you fucking me, Mr. F," I finally said. "So much." "Yeah buddy?" he smiled. "You like a man's cock in you? Nailing you?" "Nail me, Mr. F," I replied back. "You took my cherry. Now fuck me." I don't know what possessed me to try sex talk. Maybe it was the porn vids I'd watched. Dan liked it, though. He put more power into his thrusts. Maybe it was my words. Or maybe he figured I was broken in enough now to take a hard fuck. So he gave me one, and I took it, reaching down to grip his hips as he thrust them in with a steady rhythm. "Oh fuck, that's it Mr. F. Fuck me... use my hole." "Goddamn, Bailey," he growled and our lips mashed tightly as he started reaming me out good and hard. Suddenly, he stopped. I thought he was cumming at first, but instead he pulled back, a look of determination on his face. "Not yet," he announced. "Let's go back to the bed." Slowly he extracted his prick and we both were excited and hard as we made our way back. Maybe feeling a little naughty, too. Standing beside his bed, he dripped just a little lubricant on his fat tool then tossed it to me. "Here, it'll feel good if you stroke off while I fuck you." After I'd lubed up, we got on the bed. "On all fours, Evan," he coaxed me. I was about to find out what another position felt like. I got in position then felt Dan ease up behind me and sink back in. My hole welcomed him now. His thrusts were possessive as he gripped my hips and used them for leverage. The angle felt different than missionary. Not better, not worse, just different. But Mr. F seemed to love pounding me doggie, because his thrusts got more urgent, faster and harder. "Oh damn, Bailey," he growled. "This is so fucking good. Hot fucking baseball stud taking my dick." I stroked my own dick, like he'd told me, but took breaks to keep from coming too fast. Mostly I wanted to keep my dick hard yet my hole relaxed as Mr. F went rougher on me. As far as the physical sensations went, I didn't enjoy this as much as our first fuck, but psychologically I enjoyed the intensity of it, and Mr. F's clear excitement was rubbing off on me. Pretty soon he was fucking even more insistently. "Goddamn, I'm gonna cum in you again, Bailey. Come up your raw cherry hole." And like that I felt the studly 40-something man have his orgasm on top of me. I was a little disappointed I didn't get off this time, but Mr F. pulled out and sat against the headboard. His spermy dick still erect and sticking up from his furry crotch. "Climb on, Bailey. Stroke off while you sit on my dick," he urged. God that sounded perfect and I did just that, sitting on Mr F's lap and feeling his huge dick press up deep into me as we kissed. I bounced up and down just enough to stimulate my insides while I jerked in rhythm. He looked so perfect in this position. Vulnerable yet masculine. I reached forward and gripped his chest muscle with my left hand, squeezing its hardness. The contact made me go into orgasm. I gave it up for Mr. F, big time, spraying his chest and neck with my seed. "Oh fuck," I breathed as I settled down on his now not fully erect dick. Maybe it was the sex endorphins talking, but I now never wanted that cock to leave my ass. "Someone likes my chest," Dan winked. I blushed. "No need to feel shy, Evan," he said. "God, buddy, you took two fucks like a pro. If there's any part of me you want to play with, speak up." "Thanks," I said. Less tentatively now, I reached forward and openly explored his massive chest. "I don't think I'd ever get sick of feeling your chest." "Well, something to look forward to exploring next time." "Yes, sir." We kissed. Softly this time. My lips might be chapped after today but it would be worth it. He then gave me almost a paternal expression. "All right, buddy. I don't want you getting in trouble for being out late." It was nearly 9 now. I climbed off him. Even more than the first time, my ass felt wet and sticky. "OK if I shower off?" I didn't want to go home smelling like sex. Dan stepped into his shorts. "Go ahead." It was clear he wasn't going to join me this time. Probably for the best. It was the eighth inning as I stepped back out into the living room. Dan had a beer open and was watching the game. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. "We good, Bailey?" he asked, checking in with me. "Oh yeah, Coach," I said. "More than good. Thank you for an amazing day." He stood up. He was shirtless and wore only his gym shorts. He looked like a god to me. "You made my day too." He walked over to show me out. "Listen, Ryan's staying over next week, so we won't be able to...." He didn't finish his sentence but he didn't have to. "I understand, sir." It's funny. I'd started the day not even imagining in my wildest dreams that anything would happen between me and Mr. F. Now I looked forward to our next time, almost impatiently. He patted my shoulder. "Don't worry, Bailey, knowing me, I'll find a way to make sure we hook up this week." Our lips met once more. It was a perfect kiss. "All right, I really gotta go, Coach. Sorry." "No apologies, stud. You drained me pretty well. Sweet dreams, buddy." The whole drive home, everything felt different. Sounds and smells more vivid, the boring suburban streets somehow beautiful. I reached down and cupped the genitals in my shorts. Satisfied, completely. "Damn, I'm a man now," I said aloud, to no one but myself and the summer evening air.