My Baseball Buddy Ch. 06

The funny thing was that just as Nate and I were finally coming to terms with our situation... everything changed.

Typical.

The first change came at us fast and furious... our near-sacred baseball screenings quickly evaporated. As the final countdown to the playoffs got started, all kinds of fair-weather fans came out of the woodwork and wanted to be part of the action.

Including, alas, our wives.

I'm hoping that when my wife announced she and Nate's wife wanted to join us to watch the games, and wanted make some nice hors d'oeuvres and bring a bottle of wine to share while we did so, I reacted with grace and poise instead of making a face of unbridled horror.

Worse was the playoffs themselves. Nate decided to host a viewing party--his downstairs TV room was large enough, and posh enough, for just such an occasion. Several of his co-workers were expected. I slapped a smile on my face and was a magnanimous guest... although at one point, I did whisper to Nate that whatever he used to clean the downstairs couch, I hoped it was strong.

He punched my arm.

The playoff games were an utter disaster. Our boys crashed and burned, getting knocked out in straight games. Worse, they looked like they were playing T-ball in a Hollywood film about hapless, lovable losers.

Fucking Yankees.

Fast on the heels of that debacle, Nate got a great opportunity at work that sucked up nearly all his free time. As the new guy, he had been itching to make a name for himself; the company decided to give him a chance with a project that would take everything he had for about six months, and still keep him tied up after that. Nate was flush with excitement at the opportunity and I very vocally cheered him on, even knowing what it would do to our chances of getting together. At first, we were able to still sneak in a couple of small-scale get-togethers where I, um... "pumped him up," but those quickies on the side weren't the same as those magical fuckathons during that first weekend of discovery.

I have to say... all that combined bullshit, going down at all the same time, kinda knocked the wind out of my sails. It fucking sucked. Ironic, being that I had been seriously thinking of trying to break things off with Nate to avoid getting too attached. Not a chance of that anymore.

Damn.

I really, really, really missed the life-changing sex we had. But more than that, I... I... missed my buddy. Well, "missed" doesn't seem to capture the full range of feelings. I couldn't really put it into words.

Looking back, that first crazy-ass weekend we spent exploring together had really did a number on me. It was something I couldn't shake... or seem to move forward from.

At the same time, I intellectually realized that Nate missed me, too. During the first couple weeks on his new project, he reached out often, saying he was thinking about me, and trying to schedule time together, even if the timing never quite worked out. But as the project advanced, even those messages fell by the wayside. I was happy for him, but... well, it sucks being the one left behind when someone else starts an adventure.

Fall turned to winter. At the start of December, my wife and I hosted a massive open house to kick off the holidays. Nate and Shannon showed up and were their wonderful selves. Nate tried to talk to me, but as I was the host, there was always something else that needed my attention. Only when they were starting to leave did he finally corner me away from the rest of the hubbub. Nate quietly held up a sprig of holly he had grabbed from one of our decorations and said, "Will, bud, I don't think we can meet under the official mistletoe, but I brought this as a hopeful alternative." He looked around conspiratorially, held it over his head, then turned to me with puppy-dog eyes. I laughed, leaned forward, and shared an all-too-brief kiss.

"Thanks bud. Merry Christmas."

"Happy New Year."

The next couple months were more of the same, as Nate's big project drew closer to completion. I gathered from the few hasty messages he shot me that stress was eating him alive, and I responded by doing what I could to keep his spirits up. At one point, we got a nasty snowstorm, and as I finished up snowblowing our driveway, I made it point to do his, too. Just trying to look out for the guy. Strangely, I didn't hear from him. Not that I expected to, or really needed to... but it was just one more sucky reminder of the distance that had crept between us.

It kinda tore my heart out. Nate was legitimately busy, and hell... we both had other commitments, but...

For good or for bad, the enforced radio silence gave me ample (way too much) time to think about what I wanted from him. From us. From our wives, our lives... everything. Some things clarified, but a lot of my feelings just had to be put on a shelf. Fuck all these... complications.

Of course, the kicker was that even my wife noticed me moping about and asked if anything had happened between Nate and I. I gave kinda a wishy-washy answer and she responded, "Oh, quit being such a man about it! Guys are allowed to reach out to their friends, too! Just talk to him... you know you'll feel better."

That, maybe not surprisingly, really got to me. I mean, she had no fucking idea about us, but here she was pushing for us to spend more time together. She instinctively knew Nate was important to me, and that his absence was weighing on me. Great. Way to make me feel like a real piece of crap. Again, I had to wonder if the fates were just playing with us, or worse, were telling us we shouldn't be together anyway.

But the fates kept on working in mysterious ways. One particularly blustery late-winter evening, I got a message after dinner. Pretty low-key: "Hey, you around this eve?"

Despite my self-pitying conviction we were never going to see each other, I snapped up to instant, full-body alertness. I typed out an affirmative reply so fast, I completely misspelled "Yes!"

A minute or two later, he was at my back door. Despite the close distance between our houses, he was covered in wet snow. "Hey stranger," I answered, trying to remain cool even though my voice was warbling like a teenage boy's. "This is a surprise, what's up?"

"Hey man!" Nick enthused. Shit. His baritone voice was warm and smokey, like fine scotch. I think I was getting butterflies. "It's nasty out here. Can I come in? Seriously, this a bad time for you?"

"No, no, it's all good." I gestured toward the living room, continuing, "The wife's watching TV, and I'm just wasting time online."

"Cool." He bushed by me and started to stamp the snow off his shoes. Taking... a loooong time to stamp his shoes. Staring at them the whole time. Finally he looked up at me. "Cool. I......... Look, I just thought......... I mean............"

His completely out-of-character pauses were starting to make we worried. "Dude, are you okay?"

Nate breathed out, hard. Almost a laugh. "Shit. Sorry. Something else to apologize for. So... I... I wanted to say... I'm really sorry. I've been a shit friend these last few months. Life has been out of control, and... Look, I feel bad." He looked over toward the family room and its blaring TV. Satisfied that she couldn't hear us, he continued in a low voice. "We really were coming to an understanding, and I was all pushing you... to... accept things, and then I essentially went AWOL as soon as you... actually started accepting them. I'm so sorry. I swear to God, Will, this wasn't just some massive mind-fuck. So, I wanted to tell you I'm sorry I've been an asshole. For a while now. But it dawned on me that we've been so out of touch, the silence itself has become part of the problem, and it was even harder to apologize. It's a mess. And... it's all been my fault. I'm sorry, bud. Really sorry."

I took a deep breath. Hearing his voice... really got to me. And hearing my brash corporate would-be-titan almost... grovel did a helluva lot to wash away the anxieties I had over the past few months.

"Thanks, man... I appreciate it. But to be fair, to totally warned me that this was your first big test and you'd be off the grid. Don't worry about it. Things still crazy?"

There was a pause. He just looked at me. Considering. When he resumed, Nate's voice was a lot quieter, but audibly brighter.

"Thanks, Will. You... you're fucking amazing." A longer pause. "But yeah, still crazy, but I'm happy to report I'm in the final stretch. For this phase anyway. There's still a shit-ton of details, but it's moving into the phase where it's the firm's business, and less my personal business. They've been really happy. Really happy with how things have gone. In fact, with their support I'm going to be taking Shannon on a big trip to Costa Rica in a couple of weeks. It's a chance to show her my (and the company's) appreciation, and we're looking forward to reconnecting. It's been hard on her, too."

"Holy shit, man, that's fantastic! I'm really happy for you." I was really happy for him. But at the same time, I was feeling about 25 other emotions and many of them weren't quite as generous.

There was a long pause. Nate kinda... chuckled. Another pause. Nate was... working something over in his mind, and I gave him some space. "Will, I was thinking of something else. Something that... Well, I wasn't sure if I'd fucked things up so badly I wouldn't even get to float this by you. But I was thinking... well, Shannon isn't the only person I wanted to connect with."

There was a huge lump in my throat that I couldn't quite get rid of...

"I totally understand if it's like, too weird and all... but we're coming up on Spring Training soon. I don't suppose... like if you have free time or something... if you might want to... you know... head to Florida with me for a weekend so we could..."

"HOLY SHIT DUDE ARE WE GOING TO SPRING TRAINING??!!"

Nate burst out laughing. "I take it that's a 'yes'?"

"YES! This is fucking awesome! Especially since two minutes ago I was half afraid you were breaking up with me!"

I could hear the wince in Nate's voice. A whole-body wince. "Will, I am so, so, so sorry about everything. I've been a shit friend and pretty much threw you to the wolves. It was so unfair, especially after... everything."

"Nate, for the last time, we're good. So, what's your plan?"

Nate was about to say something, but then he checked himself, then looked over to where the TV sounds were coming. And he had A Look come over his face. He walked closer to me. And leered.

Before I realized what was happening, Nate had unzipped my fly, and was reaching into my jeans.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, looking toward the other room where the TV was still blaring. That said, I didn't move to block him in any meaningful way.

"First part of my plan. I'm starting reparations."

"Shit, man. You can't... my wife..."

Nate dropped to his knees. In a second, he had fished my cock out. "Your wife will certainly know something is up if you make any noise. So someone is gonna have to be real quiet." He leaned into me, and ran his face around my cock, which had gotten rock hard. "Fuuuuuuck," he whispered. "I forgot how fucking good you smell. Like sex."

"Duuuuude," I murmured. My hands shaking.

And like that, he fucking went after me. He took my head into his mouth, running his tongue around the rim and tickling the underside. I hissed out my excitement, and grabbed his shoulders. He continued to work my head, sucking in hard, and using his tongue like no one else could. Fucking teasing my piss slit. Tickling the underside. Rolling across the rim. I gave one last terrified glance towards the TV, and then leaned into it.

Nate fucking sucked me. Sucked me like only a man could. Hard. Wet. Fast. Mouth-fucking me. I almost fell forward, my eyes rolled back into my sockets. I gave out a strangled sound. I had replayed Nate's blowjobs in my mind a hundred times while jerking off, but no memory could possibly compare to the real thing.

God, I had fucking missed this.

Nate fucking worked me over, hard and fast. My knees slightly gave way, and I tightened my grip on his shoulders to keep from falling forward. So. Fucking. Good. My whole body was crackling with electricity.

The TV continued to make its sounds. Nate continued to fucking suck me.

I grabbed Nate's head and started to face fuck him. Hard. I couldn't care less if my wife walked in on us. I didn't care if Nate fucking choked on my cock. I needed his fucking mouth. My head flew back in a squelched scream, and I fucking let him have it. Taking out all my frustrations with our prolonged separation. Needing the masculine aggression that only came from sex with a man.

The fucking purity of man-on-man sex.

And Nate was right there with me. His hand grabbed my ass through my jeans and massaged me roughly. He fucking went after my cock with a fucking hunger. God, no woman could ever match the intensity of a man blowing you. I fucking drilled him, slamming into him as hard as he slammed into me. Not caring about anything. Fucking him. Making him pay for all the time we were apart. And I could feel my balls starting to boil over. Needing release. I fucking pinned his head and fucking raped his mouth. Ramming my cock into his hungry throat. Again and again, and againandagainandagain...

I bit down hard to keep from screaming, and fucking blasted about a hundred gallons of cum down his gullet. Nate had to swallow, and swallow hard. But there was too much cum for him. Finally, after an obscene gurgling sound, he pulled back and cum started pouring onto the floor. Nate coughed, and slammed his mouth back onto my cock, slurping down every last bit of cum he could.

The TV chatter kept on going. Indifferent to the intensity of the moment Nate and I just had.

"So, can I count you in for a spring training trip?"

Over the next few weeks, we laid our plans with boisterous energy. I had to smile at the metaphoricalness of it all: spring was bringing a new start to everything, kicking off a new season with a clean slate, and endless possibilities. Plus, it was bringing a fucking trip to sunny Florida, which cannot be underestimated when you're trapped in frigid northern climes.

On the departure day, I kissed my wife and ran across the alley, as Shannon was set to drive us to the airport. Shannon smiled to greet me, and popped the back of the car for me to stow my gear. "Where's Nate?" I asked.

"Oh, the idiot can't find his phone again. He'll be here in a second... he was absolutely ripping apart the house trying to find it."

I chuckled, "Well, I think we're both excited to get back to baseball!"

"Oh, no doubt. But... well, I'm glad you two are able to take this trip together." Shannon gave me a look... one that was benevolent, yet surprisingly... matrimonial. A look all wives instinctively make, especially when their husbands are being stupid. "I told him he should call you more often. He'd never say anything--men being men, I guess--but he's really missed you." My face remained blank.

She looked back over toward the house fondly, then looked back at me and smiled warmly before continuing. "I'm really glad he's got you as a friend. A lot of the guys he works with are self-absorbed pricks. You've been good for him, helped keep him honest. Plus, you know Nate... he tries to hoist the world onto his shoulders, and never takes care of himself. I'm hoping that now that all the dust is finally settling, he can start to unclench. Hopefully you can help convince him there's more to life than getting ahead!"

"I'll try!" I said hopefully, desperately masking a hurricane of emotions.

The flight to Florida was a bit of a whirlwind. I have no idea what our fellow travelers thought about us... we were like two riled up teenagers, loud and excited. And horny as fuck, although we were fighting mightily to keep that from spilling into the public. Thankfully we both were keeping our shirt tails untucked, to better hide our pronounced bulges.

Sexual tension ratcheted up to 11 as soon as we got off the plane and stepped into that warm, sultry air. We'd been trapped in the frigid north for so long, we started sweating like pigs the moment we were outside... especially as we had to stand in the car rental parking lot for nearly 45 minutes trying to figure out some fucking snafu on their part. God, his scent was absolutely killing me.

By the time we got to the hotel, I was so horny I thought my eyes were gonna explode. I was rock hard and fucking seething to finally be with him. Furious at having to keep playing nice in public. Ready to punch someone in the throat if they delayed us with one goddamn second of small talk.

The last obstacle was that perfectly fine, perfectly pleasant ASSHOLE BEHIND THE FRONT DESK JESUS MAN FOR FUCK'S SAKE JUST FUCKING GIVE US THE KEYS ALREADY YOU GODDAMN FUCK. I swear my hands were almost shaking as I nearly wrenched the key cards out of his hand--I think he finally finished his spiel explaining everything, but fuck it, it was fucking good enough. We started a speed-walk to the elevator that basically broke into a full-blown sprint. I was hard enough to lift weights with my dick.

I must have pounded that fucking call button on the elevator like 45 times trying to get it there, bouncing my leg wildly. Just as the doors opened, a sweet little lady approached and asked us to hold the door. God help me, it took every, every ounce of civilized upbringing to not shout "FUCK NO!" and take off without her. But we let her in. That was the longest elevator ride of my entire fucking life. I can't fucking imagine what it must have smelled like to her, trapped in a small metal box with two big, sweaty guys in full-blown rut for each other.

We finally got to our suite and blasted the door open so hard it was like an asteroid smashed into it. I don't know where the luggage ended up, and fucking didn't care. I slammed into Nate so hard that any neutral observer would have assumed I was trying to kill him. Faces smashed together, lips grinding against each other hard enough to draw blood. Hands digging into each other like mountain climbers ascending the Matterhorn. And a truly embarrassing spectacle of two guys trying to kick off clothing even though we were so tightly pressed against each other you couldn't slip a knife blade between us. We were so tangled in a twist of limbs and pant legs/shirt sleeves that we fell heavily onto the floor... Nate on his hip and me on top of him.

Fuck, it was ON.

I finally wrenched his sweaty undershirt off of his chest, and fucking mauled him with my mouth. Chewing at his hairy abs, sliding over to his nipples. Swinging wildly from side to side. His sweat smeared across my stubbled chin. Taking him in. Then I slid back, straddling him as he laid on his back, and started yanking off my shirt. It caught somewhere, and in frustration I fucking ripped it off, with an audible shredding sound. I could get a new one at fucking Costco or something later.

And I slammed back down on him, our chests and mouths grinding like power sanders. I roughly pinned his arms over his head, and slammed my face into his hairy pit, desperate for his scent. The fucking feel of his pit hair on my face.

Nate, who had been growling like a fucking snow blower this whole time, thundered into a higher gear, and after a few minutes threw me onto my back like I was a fucking rag doll. He grabbed my pants and violently pulled them down. In a flash, he started giving me the most savage blowjob I had ever experienced, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.

No, scratch that. Entirely thrilling.

It was a fucking tornado. He fucking ground his face against my crotch and balls so hard I fucking got razor burn... and I didn't even think that was possible with fur on fur. He swept his face all over, scenting himself with my musk, and aggressively sucking down my balls. I fucking thought he was going to suck them right off! I was barking out explosive encouragement, swearing violent, blasphemous oaths and demanding more.