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Baseballing

bysr71plt©

Will Hocking woke to the sound of a man and woman loading their car outside the motel room door and the woman not being too quiet about what needed to be packed where. As soon as Will opened his eyes, though, he shut them again. A beam of early-morning light was coming through the part in the drapes that didn't completely close, and that was being ruffled by the air from the air-conditioning unit under it. When he opened his eyes again, he could see movement through the slit in the drapes. The car that was being loaded was just on the other side of the window.

He turned his head toward the clock on the nightstand. "Christ almighty," he muttered. It was only 6:00 a.m. He'd had less than three hours of sleep. And now he wasn't sure when or if he'd get back to sleep—which was funny because he always felt drowsy. At least until recently.

His muttered phrase had caused a shifting and low moan in the bed beside him, and Will turned, almost in surprise, to find a naked young man, laying on his belly, stretched out above the covers in the bed beside him. It took Will a few moments to collect his thoughts on where he was and who this was. He'd played in both games of the double-header on the road against the Bowie, Maryland, Bay Sox the previous day, and he obviously had partied pretty hard that night, and later this morning he had to be down at Wilmington, Delaware's, Frawley Field to scout out catchers in the Blue Rocks High-A league organization.

There was rumor of a hot shot catcher coming up the roster fast there, and Will's team, the Richmond Flying Squirrels, was shallow at that position. The Richmond team was Double A, so someone wanting to move up to the majors from the High-A league should see the Flying Squirrels as a favorable move.

He gave a good look at the young man he'd picked up the previous night. A fine looking young Puerto Rican. Very fine, Will could remember from last night. At least twice fine. Will reached over and ran a hand down the line of the young man's back to one of his well-rounded butt cheeks. Such a nice coffee-and-cream skin tone, he thought. Unblemished and firm. No fat on this rent boy. His hand went between the mounds, and he was rewarded with a moan and the spreading of thighs. His fingers pushed inside the rim of the guy's channel and he heard another moan. He couldn't remember whether they'd talked price, but Will thought it would be worth every penny he'd have to pay. Couldn't be a whole lot. It wasn't the snazziest of clubs he'd picked the guy up in.

The young man was stirring and the couple out on the other side of the window were taking their sweet time in packing their car. "Christ," Will repeated in frustration.

The rent boy turned on his side to face Will and smiled with sleepy eyes and reached over and cupped Will's balls and then moved his hand to Will's cock.

With a grunt, Will sat up in the bed, his back against the headboard and folded his legs, yoga style. He reached over onto the top of the nightstand for a pack of cigarettes, coaxed one out of the pack, lit it with a lighter that also had been on the nightstand. He took a couple of puffs and then he kept the cigarette in his mouth as he reached over and lifted the smaller Puerto Rican's torso with hands under his armpits and pulled the young man's head over to where his face was in Will's lap. The young man went down on Will's cock with his mouth and Will leaned back against the headboard, tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and enjoyed his smoke and the soft, expert mouth of the Puerto Rican working his cock.

Cigarette finished, Will reached over and stubbed it out on the surface of the nightstand. There was no ashtray. These motels didn't provide those anymore, hoping the guests wouldn't smoke, although this was a smoking room. But maybe a previous guest had made off with the ashtray, which happened, Will knew, as he'd done it himself. Still, they should have replaced it. Will's gesture with the cigarette ground into the nightstand was his little rebellion to a world gone pushy on what he could and could not do.

While his hand was over there, he picked up a vial of crushed Provigil and snorted it. He began to feel more awake and energized almost immediately. The Puerto Rican was working his cock good, and the snort of the energizing drug heightened the sensations of the sucking. Will was hard as a rock and long and thick and throbbing. Ready to go.

He sensed it was time, so he reached back over and picked up a condom packet and a tube of lubricant. As he was leaning over he looked down at the floor, where he saw three spent condoms and their torn packets. He'd had a good time last night apparently. Two he had estimated, but apparently three times. "Mr. Virility; King Cock," he thought and then laughed. He still had it. Now it was coming back to him. He'd offered the Puerto Rican fifty dollars, and the young man had just smiled and gotten off his stool and come with Will. The third time, the sweet young thing had opened his legs as eagerly as he had done for the first screwing. It was good to wake up and feel like the cock of the walk.

After the double-header in Bowie, the team had gone for a victory dinner. They'd only won one of the games, but of late that constituted a victory for Richmond. They were sorely in need of a top-notch catcher. Will knew he was at the height of his career as a pitcher, and it didn't look like he was going to make the major leagues now. The losses by the Flying Squirrels weren't doing him any good. That's why he was getting proactive on helping the team find a great catcher.

The guys on the team wanted to go down to D.C. from Bowie, en route back to Richmond, and party, but Will had said he was using the opportunity of being this near to Wilmington, Delaware, to check out that hot shot catcher, Cruz Cordero, people were talking about.

Will also had a different idea about partying than most of his teammates did. After driving up to Wilmington and checking into the Brandywine Valley Best Western, not far from Frawley Stadium and convenient to I-95, Will put on his tight T and jeans, took a Provigil hit, and drove over to the gay club that had been recommended to him, the Crimson Moon. He was keyed up for a fuck and he started cruising as soon as he hit the door at the club. He bypassed the video room on the first floor and went upstairs to the ImPulse dance bar.

Most of the guys up there were shirtless, so he stripped off his own T, tucked it into his waistband, and went out on the dance floor, where everyone seemed to be dancing with everyone else, some more intimately than others. Will felt good. He was in his mid thirties, but he'd kept in great shape. His musculature was impressive; he spent a lot of time keeping himself in shape. His wrists had been bothering him of late and they ached enough after a game that he had been taking meds. With these, unfortunately, he was having trouble with being drowsy when he needed to be on the ball. The team's trainer had helped with that, though, passing along vials of crushed Provigil to Will under the table. Thus far that had been enough to keep his energy levels up during the day and his sleep contained to the night.

While Will danced facing a series of other single dancers moving around on the floor, he'd scanned the revolving partners and the room for someone to take back to the motel. Each time his gaze passed over a group of young guys bunched at the bar, he could see that he was being eyed by a good-looking smallish Puerto Rican guy. All of them were young—and most of them Hispanic—in the tight little group this guy was in. Older men were buzzing around them, and from time to time one of the group would spin off and follow an older guy to the back of the room and into a corridor curtained off by a beaded curtain. They pretty obviously were rent boys, Will thought. And when he approached the Puerto Rican and put his hand on the young man's arm and leaned down and whispered "Fifty dollars for an all-night ride in a motel room, my room and me doing the riding. Interested?" in his ear, the young man had simply smiled at him and stood up from his bar stool and followed Will out of the club.

Will pressed the tube of lubricant in the young man's hand, and he raised himself on his elbows, taking his mouth off Will's cock. The Puerto Rican fingered lube into his own channel while Will rolled the condom down on his cock and then the young man stroked lube on Will's tool.

Will took another hit of Provigil while the Puerto Rican stretched out on the bed on his belly as Will had told him to do. The guy had a luscious ass. Will thought the best fuck of the night was when the guy lay on his belly between Will's knees and he could look down and watch himself slide between those cheeks again and again.

Will rolled over on top of the prone rent boy, straddling the young man's hips with his knees. The young man raised his hips to give Will a good angle, and Will slid inside him while the young man began to moan and grunt and writhe under him. When Will was deep inside him, he placed the palms of his hands on the young man's shoulder blades, as the Puerto Rican grabbed the slats of the headboard, and then Will began to ride his ass hard.

Twenty minutes later, Will collapsed on the young man's back, ran his hand underneath the Puerto Rican's waist and stroked the hard cock he found to ejaculation. They both lay there, panting, for several minutes before Will reached over onto the nightstand for, first, the vial of Provigil, and then another condom packet.

The Puerto Rico was asleep again, when Will climbed out of bed. He looked down on the floor by the nightstand. Five spent condoms. "Hot damn," he thought. "I've still got it." What a sweet ass that was.

He padded into the bathroom, being as quiet as he could, took a shower, and dressed. He left a hundred dollars in twenties on the nightstand. The rent boy had been well worth double what he'd offered. Then he left the room and went to the diner next door and facing Route 202 for a hearty breakfast. He deserved a big breakfast after that fuckfest. King Cock!

When he came back, the room was empty, and he checked out and drove his car over to Frawley Field.

* * * *

"There he is; that's our boy, out there at the catcher's spot now."

"That's him? That's Cruz Cordero?" Will asked in a bit of disbelief.

"Yep, that's him," Brian Grimsley, manager of the Wilmington Blue Rocks, said, a sense of pride quite evident in his voice. "I know what you're thinking—that he's too small to be a baseball player. But he is and he's really good at it. Sort of a pity. He's great—better, really, than the two on the roster in front of him. But they've got contracts."

"Uh, you have a can handy around here?" Will asked, clearly in pain.

"Yeah, just through that door over there and to the left. You want to see him in a full test when you get back."

"Yeah, please," Will said over his shoulder as he hustled back through the door under the stands. He barely made it in time, needing relief from both ends. "Getting' too old for this partying shit," he muttered as he cleaned himself up. He didn't feel so King Cock now. Still, it was probably the side effects of the Provigil, and, if the Provigil also had something to do with five spent condoms overnight, then nausea and diarrhea were the lesser of two evils. Well, as long as he could get it hard. He felt better now. Pretty much normal.

Back on the field, he watched Cordero in action for a good half hour and was duly impressed.

"I'm not sure why you're letting me look," he said when Cordero was finished and taking off his gear and walking over toward where Grimsley and Will stood. "You know I'm scouting for a catcher for the Flying Squirrels."

"I know you are. But, as I said, we have contracts with the two in front of him. And he's a good kid. I want what's best for him."

"And?"

"And, we have some weaknesses at other positions. We won't give him up cheap. We figure he's worth two at other positions. So, if Richmond is interested in him, tell them they need to make a very good offer."

"I hear you. Fair enough."

Cruz Cordero had reached them now.

"Cruz, I'd like you to meet—" Grimsley started to say.

"Will Hocking, star pitcher for the Richmond Flying Squirrels," The small, handsome Puerto Rican catcher interjected with a smile. "Yes, I know who Mr. Hocking here is," he continued. "I've followed his career for several years. I recognized him the moment I saw him."

"The moment you saw me?" Will asked. There was a twinkle in his eye that Grimsley wouldn't have been able to decipher even if he'd caught it.

"Yep, the instant I first saw you," Cruz said. "It's very nice meeting you, Mr. Hocking."

"Well, I'll leave the two of you to talk alone," Grimsley said, as he turned to walk off. "And remember, Hocking, if I hear from Richmond, it will need to be a very good offer."

When Grimsley was out of voice range, Will turned to Cordero. "You're not a rent boy, are you?"

"Nope," Cordero said with a smile. "But at those rates, it's tempting. Still, when you look at it by the fuck—"

"Yeah, I'll bet you went downtown more times than you figured you would. Surprised you, did I?"

"A little bit."

"Sore?"

"Not enough to regret it."

"I'm hard again just watching you walk over here."

"I'm impressed. So am I, if it means anything to you. You're the best I've ever had."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew who I was—and let me know who you were. I came to Wilmington expressly to see you, although not exactly in the way I saw you."

"Do you regret it?"

"Hell, no, of course not. Best lay I've had this year. Didn't I tell you I'm hard for you? Do you think I was joking?"

"If I'd told you who I was and that I knew who you were, would you have taken me back to the motel? Or would you have thought I was trying to sell you on me."

"You don't need to sell yourself. You're that good—both on the field and in the sack. And I suspect you know you are. You know there's a possible deal taking you to Richmond?"

"Yeah."

"That OK with you?"

"Do you come with the deal?"

"I don't see a problem with that. You're good enough that you can move in with me, if you like."

"Then yeah, I'm interested."

"Well, in answer to your earlier question, I don't know whether I would have taken you back to the motel or not. Maybe not. Maybe I would have thought that would queer any deal Richmond could make. Now, though, I have another question."

"Shoot."

"Are there any really private rooms in this stadium?"

They fucked in one of the remote training rooms, with Cruz perched on the side of a massage table and his fingernails dug into Will's shoulder blades, as Will crouched between his spread legs and fed his cock hard, rapidly, and deep into Cruz's channel. While Cruz had applied lube and opened a condom for Will, Will had taken a hit of Provigil, which had energized him.

"Six!" Will cried out as he ejaculated.

"I'm two ahead of you," Cordero answered with a laugh.

After they were done and still clinging, panting, to each other, Cruz whispered in Will's ear.

"Could you try to do one thing for me, Will, if I come to Richmond?"

"What?"

"Try to get off the Provigil. It will kill you."

* * * *

The next season was an up and down year for the Richmond Flying Squirrels and for Will Hocking. The Flying Squirrels were winning again after a rough year in the previous season, so their world was up. Will Hocking wasn't enjoying the upswing, though. As the Richmond team touted up wins, which they credited to now having a solid roster, with the acquisition of the catcher, Cruz Cordero, Will Hocking slowly slid down the roster of pitchers. His touch was slipping, too many of his pitches were going wild, and too many of the batters he faced were getting on base. He clearly was having trouble with pain in his wrists, which was obvious to anyone who saw him wince as he released the ball, but he refused to acknowledge the problem and declared that he was just in a temporary slump.

The day that the Richmond team management knew it was much more than that was one of the worst in Hocking's life.

After he had left a particularly distressing meeting with team management in their offices under the stands at The Diamond baseball stadium in downtown Richmond, he walked back through the warren of locker, trainer, and equipment rooms until he found himself outside the visitor locker rooms, where he fully intended to let loose with foul-mouthed screaming and beating on the walls. He wanted to do this in private. He didn't want the club managers seeing how this affected him.

But when he got there, he heard the sounds of two men in deep rut. He peered around the corner into the locker room and there they were. The big black stud of a left fielder, Justin Bond, had Cruz Cordero trapped underneath him. Cruz was on all fours on a towel on the floor, and Bond had mounted his hips like a dog and was fucking the young Puerto Rican catcher hard.

Just like a black mutt fucking a sweet young bitch, Will thought in disgust. And Cruz loving it. Asking for it deeper. Everyone knew Bond had a nine incher hard. And Cruz was begging for more of it stuffed inside him. Like Will wasn't satisfying him.

Feeling even more like he wanted to scream, Will instead retreated to a nearby men's room and retched his guts out.

He was waiting at their shared apartment in the Fan district of Richmond when Cruz came home a couple of hours later.

"Want to talk to you, Cruz."

"It's fine with me," Cruz answered. "I saw you looking into the locker room."

"How long has Bond been cocking you?"

"For months, if you must know. He's got the thickest cock on the team."

"What I heard you begging for was length. You've done a comparison, have you?"

"Of those who are interested, yes. Let's stop this and get to the chase, Will. I told you when I came to Richmond that we'd only work if you kicked the Provigil. And you haven't, have you? You've been so hopped up that you haven't even noticed I've been screwing around. And I started that to get your attention. Now I do it because Bond has the biggest, thickest cock on the team. And maybe I like black cock. You have your bad habits; I have mine. I still want you. But I want you sober. You get sober and I get monogamous and all white bread. That's the signal I've been trying to send you, and you haven't even noticed."

"Fuck you."

"Let's just stop this, Will. We have to play on the same team. I can move out, if that's what you want, but on the field, let's just put this aside."

"Too late for that."

"What do you mean?"

"I was put on suspension today."

"Why?" Cordero knew the answer, he'd already heard the rumors—even before Will, in his doped-up state, had tuned into them. But he wanted Will to say it.

"I haven't passed the drug tests. They gave me a bye on the last one, but now they can't cover for me anymore."

"Didn't I tell you this would happen?"

Will sat there, saying nothing, his belligerence building. He needed release. He needed to fuck something.

"Com'ere."

"No, Will. Everything can't be answered and forgotten just by you fucking me."

"I said Com'ere. I can do you better than that fuckin' Justin Bond can. We'll do it doggy style, if that turns you on. I'll paint it black if you want." Will stood up from the tub chair he'd been sprawled in.

"No, Will." Cruz backed up, toward the front door of the apartment.

Will circled around, though, herding Cruz toward the corridor back to the bedrooms. Cruz started to move fast, but Will moved faster. And Will was bigger and stronger than Cruz was. They collided in the bedroom where they both slept, and Will trapped Cruz under him on his belly on the bed, as Will reached for a vial of Provigil and a condom packet on the nightstand.

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