Date: Fri, 6 Mar 2009 15:35:03 -0800 (PST)
From: Rob Hoek <storyguy22@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball and Boys (2)

Baseball and Boys
By
Storyguy22

(2)


   It was a perfect Arizona spring day for the great American pastime, and
I wandered slowly around the ball yard, relishing the sights, sounds, and
smells of Major League Baseball that surrounded me. Before leaving home I
had advanced purchased lower reserved seating at three different yards
where my favorite teams and players would be going through the paces of
their spring training rituals, but another part of the spring in Arizona
experience was what I was doing now; just strolling around the ball park
soaking up the atmosphere, and checking out the seemingly endless variety
of young boys that were in attendance.

   It was a veritable smorgasbord of boys in all sizes, shapes, and ages,
and for we card carrying boy lovers, it was a slice of heaven on earth. The
gathering of baseball fanatics generally didn't include too many very young
boys such as the under twelve group, a fact that I attributed to the
relative high cost of attendance, especially when one factored in the
additional costs of lodging and food. Most typical families that chose to
budget some discretionary dollars to be squandered on spring training
limited attendance to the Dad, and the teenage sons, the thought being that
the attention span of the younger siblings were too short to be
continuously subjected to multiple days and evenings of nothing but
baseball. The net result of this philosophy was a definite benefit to men
like me, a benefit that manifested itself in the smorgasbord mentioned
earlier.

As I strolled the concourse area of the yard, I seriously wished that I had
the physical ability to look in multiple directions at once, given that
there seemed to be young eye-candy in virtually every direction one might
choose to look. I noticed a small mob of excited boys gathered in front of
one of several kiosks where various players made brief appearances for the
purpose of signing autographs, and whichever professional was occupying
this particular booth at the moment was clearly a favorite of the gathering
of young hotties that were clamoring around trying to get the player to
take their offered autograph books, programs, or baseballs to sign. I
maneuvered into a position favorable to viewing the excited gaggle of lads,
and leaned back against the wall to enjoy the view, my demented mind
working the math regarding just how many slender young penis' and balls
were represented in just this one group. One could nearly smell the fresh
young crotches, and the abundance of flowing hormones, and my mind swam
with the image of all of them naked as they clamored over each other as
they vied for the player's attention. Oh my.

   Comfortable in my casual perch I visually sorted out each little cutie
in turn, taking my time to savor each little nuance that made each boy
unique, and my gaze eventually settled on a young beauty who stood off to
one side of the pack who appeared to be somewhat intimidated by the raucous
gathering of boys. He held a very white baseball in one hand, and a Sharpie
pen in the other so his intention was obvious, but he was plainly not going
to succeed in his mission due to what appeared to be shyness, or at least a
lack of the required aggressiveness that was going to be needed if he had
any hope of getting anywhere near the player. Deciding that my assistance
might serve me well as an ice breaker, I took another moment to study that
boy carefully.

   He was a very good looking kid, probably thirteen or close to it I
judged, and his rather dark complexion suggested a possible Italian, or
Latin heritage. There was some thick dark hair extending from under his
baseball cap, and he was dressed in a sleeveless shirt commonly referred to
as a tank top, and a pair of those silky material basketball shorts. He was
slim, and his bare arms showed the beginnings of muscle definition, as were
his slender legs where they extended below the hem of his shorts. I guessed
his overall stats at somewhere around 5' 4 or 5" in height and perhaps all
of 100 pounds. As I continued to watch him carefully, he inched a tad
closer to the hovering crowd of boys, and dared to raise the arm that held
his baseball as he tried to thrust it forward to hopefully get the player's
attention. As he did this, I focused on the now exposed patch of very
creamy and totally hairless skin of his exposed underarm, and I felt a
stirring behind my balls as I imagined licking and sucking that sensitive
place while the boyish scent of him washed over my senses. God, how I loved
hairless underarms on a boy!

   His somewhat timid gesture went completely unnoticed by the ball player
who himself was beginning to look a touch overwhelmed with the flood of
attention he was receiving, and the look of disappointment that crossed his
sweet face broke my heart. I pushed off the wall, and made my way over near
the boy, and when he glanced in my direction I smiled and moved in along
side him. He looked up at me, a kind of blank expression on his face as
though he were trying to decide if he knew me from somewhere, and I seized
the moment of having his attention to bend down and ask him,

   "Would you like me to see if I can have any more luck getting your ball
signed...?...I'm actually bigger than any of these other dudes that are in
your way...?"

   He looked me up and down briefly, and then glanced at the still churning
group of boys, and a sweet little smile turned up the corners of his lush
little mouth as he nodded, extending the baseball in my direction as he
said, his voice filled with a youthful lilt that offered evidence that he
was definitely not all the way through puberty yet,

   "Would you do that for me...?...oh cool...I really do want this
autograph...when he was a kid he actually played in the same Little League
I play in...!"

   "Really...?" I offered, taking the ball from his somewhat delicate hand
while I silently wished it was his own little marbles I was fingering
rather than his snow white baseball. "Well then...we definitely need to get
this baby signed...stay right here, okay...?"

   He nodded again, a look of some apprehension crossing his sweet face as
I took possession of the prized baseball. I straightened up, and used my
superior bulk to part a path through the clamoring throng of boys, a
maneuver that was a pleasure unto itself as I relished the close body
contact that ensued. As is fairly typical for boys suddenly confronted with
the presence of an aggressive adult, the boys readily allowed me to move
forward, and when I reached the booth, I told the player in a firm, and
slightly loud voice,

   "Hi...my young friend back there would really appreciate you signing his
ball...he actually plays little League in the same league where you played
as a boy...!"

   He looked at me briefly, somewhat taken aback by my sudden presence, and
then he looked at my boy, and smiled as he reached out to take the ball
from my hand. I looked back, and motioned the boy forward, and he hurried
to my side, his wide eyes fixated on his hero as he signed the ball with a
flourish, and handed it back, bypassing me, and giving it directly to the
boy, who was positively beaming. The player was gracious, and chatted with
my friend for a moment or two, and then turned his attentions back to the
throng, and more signing. I placed my hand on the boy's back, and steered
him back through the crowd, and he held onto the signed baseball as if were
made of glass. Once clear of the crowd, the boy suddenly thrust his slender
body against me, his slender arms circling my mid-section as he hugged me
tightly. I quickly dropped my arm down and pulled his lithe body closer,
taking full advantage of the feel of his softness pressed against me. He
looked up at me, and his dazzling smile melted my heart on the spot, and in
that melodic young voice he said,

    "Gosh, Mister...thanks a lot...this is so awesome...!"

   I winked at him, and felt my heart sink as he broke away from the hug,
and told him,

   "It is awesome...and I am glad I could help you...but...since I did you
a favor, you owe me one, so stop with the Mister, okay...?...my name is
Rob...and you are...?"

   He flushed slightly, another dazzling smile flashing as he nodded his
assent to my admonition, and then replied,

   "Okay, sure...um...Rob...I'm Cory..."

   I chuckled, and nodded as I told him,

   "Cory...of course you are...you actually look like a Cory...or maybe
more to the point, you look like the perfect Cory!"

   He flushed again, but the smile broadened as he returned his attention
to the prized ball, and it occurred to me how deeply I would prize HIS
balls, autograph or not. He rolled his face up to look at me again, and
blinked several times, and I decided that he was digesting my "perfect
Cory" comment. Turns out I was correct in that as he asked,

   "What is a perfect Cory...?"

   I chuckled, and told him, meaning every word,

   "A perfect Cory is a Cory exactly like you...one that is determined, and
polite...oh, and very, very cute, as well...that's a perfect Cory...and
that is you!"

   He seemed to like that alright, though he made no reply, but instead
returned to gazing at his signed ball, so I bent down, and asked him,

   "So perfect Cory...how do feel about us going over there and getting
something to drink...or eat, if you're hungry...muscling through those
other boys left me thirsty...!"

   He giggled sweetly, and nodded as he answered,

   "Yea sure, Rob...I'm kinda thirsty too...could I get a Coke, maybe?"

   Putting my hand on his back again, I steered us toward a food booth as I
said,

   "Two Cokes coming up...do you want a burger or something to go with
it...?"

   He hesitated briefly, and then seemed to surrender to the near-constant
appetite that hounded all teen boys, and he sheepishly replied,

   " I guess I could probably eat a burger, sure...and thanks Rob...you're
a really cool guy!"

    Our food and drinks were boxed up, and I paid the tab, and then Cory
and I moved to a small group of nearby tables and chairs where we sat down
to eat. We chatted like old pals as we ate the burgers, and in the
discourse I learned that Cory was indeed thirteen, having recently
celebrated the milestone event, and that he was here with his Granddad who
had planned the trip as a part of Corry's birthday gift. They had flown
into Phoenix from Southern California, and were spending the week at one of
the many hotel complexes that surrounded the baseball venues in and around
the Phoenix/Scottsdale area. I filled him in on my motor home and RV park
accommodation, and then we chatted a lot of baseball, and I was impressed
with his depth of knowledge of both the game and its players, and even more
impressive was his ability to spout a multitude of baseball statistics and
history. He was not just another pretty face, not by a long shot, and as
much as I was fully aware that my primary objective here was to somehow
sample the delicious boy treasures that I knew lurked behind those silky
shorts, I found myself fully enjoying his company, and his conversation.

   Another nugget that was culled from our chat was the fact that while his
Grand dad was a total baseball junky his advanced age and a variety of
health issues impeded his stamina, and he was simply unable to muster the
energy to attend all of the wide variety of offered activities that made up
the preseason baseball event. It was for this reason that I had had the
good fortune of encountering Cory unsupervised, a situation that apparently
gave Grandpa some pause, though he had reluctantly relented to Cory's pleas
to let him attend some of the practices and games on his own. Grand dad, it
seemed, had deemed Cory a responsible lad who could be trusted to do the
right thing most of the time, so he would allow it as long as they had a
gentlemen's agreement that Cory's Mom was NOT to know of their
arrangement. If the secret were to leak, Grand dad would be in serious
trouble back home. Further, Grand dad had allowed, the all American ball
yard environment surely held no attraction for the unsavory types that
might prey on young teen boys, right? Oh grand dad...oh my...WRONG!

   After our repast, Cory and I wandered the yard for a while, checking out
the variety of retail offerings that were rampant throughout the concourse
areas, and then we made our way to my lower box, where we watched the
action on the field and ate salty peanuts. Cory effortlessly consumed an
outsized bunch of purple cotton candy, after which his lush mouth was
stained an unattractive shade of purple, and I longed to lick those soft
lips clean, but refrained. As the days activities waned, we left the box,
and I offered to drop Cory at his hotel complex, which he readily
accepted. We made a pit stop enroute to the parking lot, and it turned out
to be the highlight of an already delightful day. The huge men's facility
at the ball yard was typical of most parks I have ever visited, that is to
say that the dozens of urinals that lined the room were closely spaced, and
devoid of any sort of modesty panels separating them and spoiling many a
viewing opportunity. As it turned out, I was delighted to discover that
Cory exhibited a complete lack of pee shyness, and I was afforded the
breath taking opportunity to steal subtle glances at his pretty little
boyhood as he relieved his very full bladder while standing to my immediate
right. It wasn't exactly the unfettered view I would have hoped for, but
suffice to say that the narrow stalk I managed to glimpse several times had
the effect that all Broadway thespians long for, to wit, always leave them
wanting more! While the event left me still wondering what that soft little
appendage might offer in a state of maximum excitement and lust, it proved
sufficient to inform me that my new young friend was neatly circumcised,
and very tasty looking indeed!

   When we arrived at Cory's hotel, which was clearly within easy walking
distance of the ball yard, I succumbed to his pleas that I come up and meet
Grand dad, and after doing that I was glad that I had, given that Grand dad
seemed to like me, and had expressed his relief in knowing that I might be
available to keep an eye on Cory in the event of his absence from the ball
park. As we said our goodbyes, Cory and I arranged to meet up at my box the
following day, and I was rewarded with another of his very pleasant hugs as
he again effused over my helping him get his ball autographed. I again had
the fleeting thought about tongue-a-graphing HIS balls, but decided that
patience would be a virtue in that regard. I took my leave, and returned
the RV, confident in my heart of hearts that the opportunity to taste my
new young friend's treasures was not far off.

(To Be Continued)
Storyguy22@yahoo.com