Date: Tue, 14 Oct 2008 14:12:10 -0700 (PDT) From: T H <ref_sport@yahoo.com> Subject: SUMMER BASEBALL PART 3 Copyright. Usual disclamers SUMMER BASEALL (PART 3) ------------------------------------------- I saw enough of that 3rd game. I wanted to get out of the sun. I smelled my pits. It was time to go! I wanted badly to shower. I wanted badly to shower with this kid that had just given me some of my own medicine. The checkout, the looks up and down. The pat on the butt held maybe a tad long. I thought, now that my cock was behaving better, that yes he was not just patting me, saying good game ump, but he was feeling me. He knew I wasn't wearing undies. He knew that when I boned, and yes that was his intent, I couldn't hide it. And oh yes, was he being a sexy boy as he was leaning on the fence. When he looked into my eyes. How he watched my mouth as he talked and I mumbled. When he raised his arms slightly to show me his chest, nipples, and underarms. How he slowly and methodically and sensuously ground his boy pride into the fence. As I walk away, I still have his scent. His boy scent. The smell of his sweat from the game, mixed with his very own essence. Better make it a very cold shower. A very long cold shower. ***** This hotel is not the Ritz, but the rooms are spacious, the beds cozy. Decent sized bathroom and shower. Large and quite soft towels. In fact more than 1 of these towels is going home with me Sunday. The hotel had a bar. Gotta thank the committee for that. It also had a pretty good restaurant. It had a pool, thank them again, and a Jacuzzi. I may return some of my umpire pay just because they have this Jacuzzi. I went to the hospitality room. I nibbled some snacks, inhaled a cold one or 4, and shot some bull. Checked in with the committee desk. Made sure they had my cell phone number and room number should my schedule change or an emergency arise. Pool time. Do I wear my modesty suit or my speedos? Both. I'll lose the boardies when I hit the Jacuzzi. The lobby and pool areas were fairly busy. Several teams were staying here, and if tradition holds, teams not staying here are invited . Parents invite the parents of the teams they just beat or lost to. The committee is very generous in their hospitality, so I am sure the sponsors paying the bills will also be here on occasion. Umpires hang here even when not staying here. And those umpires living in the area are invited. Their price of admission is a 6-pack at least... The pool was too busy for me. I took a couple dives, swam some laps, and climbed out. There was a lot of eye candy though. My cruise alert system went off. I was being scoped out. I looked around for handsome stranger(s), but found none. All I could see were the teens in and around the pool. The parents? Nah. So, I struck up a conversation with some adults while I took in the sights. I was talking with 2 dad's of the team I umpired earlier. They recognized me and invited me to their table next to the pool. They were almost too complimentary of our umpiring. I graciously accepted and returned the compliment to their team, saying how well I thought they played, how sportsmanlike I thought they were. How well coached they seemed to be. How I've seen few young kids master a curveball like the kid did earlier. I don't understand the mechanics it takes to throw a curveball. But it is not the normal motion of the arm and usage of muscle as for a regular fastball. This un-natural action is why you see major league pitchers ice their arms between innings. Have multiple surgeries on their arms. End their careers earlier than perhaps they should. Many youth programs will not allow kids under a given age to throw these pitches, obviously because their arms are physically not ready. As we were talking, 2 of the players came dripping wet to the table. To hit their dads up for some money, of course. I recognized them and as they turned to go to the arcade, they in turn recognized me. They said, "Good game ump. You doing more of our games?" As they asked these questions, they were adjusting their packages. Taking a nice long time to towel certain parts of their bodies. Boys will be boys. And yes I watched them towel their heads and chests and tummies and legs and arms and arm pits and jewels. And yes I noticed all the package adjustments. And yes they noticed that I noticed. They held their gazes a bit too long. The rents didn't see it, but I sure did. I indicated, "Yep, I hope to do more of your games." Sweet Jesus, do I hope. ****** Jacuzzi time. Nice hot water with fully functioning jets. No one else here. I shucked the boardies. Too early yet to go naked. That's for later tonight. After hours. Me in my speedos. The jets workin their magic. The temperature perfect. I did not hear him approach. Guess I was in a daze. He quietly stepped in , sitting about 90 degrees from me, for I had stretched all the way out, just keeping my head above water. I felt the ripples in the water caused by him getting in. I felt his stare. I finally opened one eye. Saw a smile. I opened both eyes and saw my angel, the beautiful pitcher. Yea the angel with the devilish curveball. He said, "Hi. Can I join you?" Maintaining his lovely smile. Maintaining his piercing eye contact. "Sure. Let me make room." I started to sit up and pull my legs back. "No don't. I'm fine", he said quietly. I looked him over. Every hair on his head did I count. Saw the glow of his facial fuzz even in this lighting. He stretched his arms and I noticed again the light hair he had. I noticed again how nicely developed his arm muscles were. I saw his long and strong and soft fingers . As he stretched, he again showed me his beautiful underarms with the light hairs growing there. He lowered his arms and I saw the rest of the chest I didn't see at the park. Perfect muscle definition. And oh god, the nipples. Small and perfectly situated on his pecs. Still maintaining his eye contact, he stood up to adjust himself. Facing me, he moved the boy parts within his suit. I also saw the rest of his incredible legs. The strength of his calves. The light hair cover I saw earlier continued up his legs, inside and out. His tummy was perfect as well. Tight & muscled. A small and incredibly sexy treasure trail. He sat back down. Leaned back. "Dude, this feels good, don't it?" "Wicked good" I stutter. "How's your arm? You pitched a full game today. " I was struggling with my speedos as I spoke. Why did I wear these? Should have worn a chastity belt. Shaped like a banana. Oh, jeeze, Mr. Peter, behave yourself. He laughed. "My arm's good...are you hard again, ump? Let's see." DUHH!! Am I hard again. He found the strings and untied them. He caressed my bulge. He felt the profile of my cock through the fabric. He cupped my balls. "Nice", he whispered. He then led my hand to his boyhood pride. It was rock hard as I touched it. I felt his profile, its length. I stroked it slowly thru his shorts. I cupped his balls, seemed a very nice set for a teen. He leaned back enjoying both the water action and the cock action. I was inside his shorts now, touching his branding iron, feeling it from head to base. Five magnificent boy inches. I gripped around his cock. It was not too thick, obviously a boy cock with more growing to do. His patch was wonderfully soft to touch and for a 15yo, there was not much hair there. His balls were teen size, plump, juicy. His ball sack had just a little hair. As I explored him underwater, he returned to explore me. He helped me get rid of the speedos. He stroked my 6.5 like a master. I am not thick but with his long fingers, he could easily have gripped a beer can. I trim my pubes and pit hair. Not shaved bald, but neatly trimmed. I have little other body hair. He ran his fingers thru my bush, felt my underarms. Lightly ran his fingers over my shoulders, chest, and stomach. "Nice," he cooed. He cupped my balls. He separated them feeling each one. Then he grabbed my bag just below my cock, squeezing the balls into a smaller, tighter space. He toyed with them like that, while slowly stroking my cock. I could hardly breathe. This kid was very, very good. "Not-now-we-can't-be -doing-this-here", I moaned. I stopped his cock play. He looked directly into my eyes. He also knew that now was not the time and here was not the place. Acknowledging defeat, my seducer asked, "What room you in?" "225" , I barely got out. I wanted to ask his room number, but decided better not to. He stood up with me. We were inches apart, eyes looking into eyes. Our breathing was returning to normal. Our tents were still tenting. He gracefully got out of the water and wrapped his towel around his waist. "Cya later, Blue". I pulled my speedos on. I exited the Jacuzzi feeling I had lost something very special and valuable. I finally located my boardies, toweled off quickly, and headed for my room. ****** He called me "Blue" a few minutes ago. Tho I was indeed feeling blue balls now, that's not what it means. "Blue" is a universal nickname for a baseball umpire. Most of the times, our shirt color is blue. We could be wearing red shirts, but we are still known as "Blue". Plaid shirts, we're still "Blue". We don't wear plaid, but you get the idea. Easier to yell at an umpire, "hey, Blue...you suck!!", instead of, "hey Mr. Umpire, you suck!" Well, this particular "Blue" does indeed suck. Not because he's a bad umpire, thank you. I do suck. I love to suck and be sucked. To jack and be jacked. To fuck and be fucked. Lord Jesus, may it happen SOON. ***** Keep the kind cards and letters comin guys! Responses assured, bear with me if not right away. So much baseball to be played...Angel's turn to bat... ref_sport@yahoo.com