Date: Fri, 5 Apr 2013 07:48:07 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joe Hunter <hunterjoe45@yahoo.com>
Subject: Baseball Diamond Tails - 8E

All the usual disclaimers apply:

+This story is a work of fiction.  If you think it is real, you have a very
active imagination.

+Do not read this story if you live in an area where it is illegal to do
so.

+Scenes of sexual activity between an adult male and a young boy are
represented.  Do not read further if this offends you.

+Please do not imitate the actions portrayed herein - the author cannot
accept responsibility for any actions promoted by this story.

If you would like to get in touch, please e-mail me at:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with
contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
ways to make contributions.  Without this Archive those of us who write for
you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Support Nifty!   Joe

____________________________

BASEBALL DIAMOND TAILS - 8E
(copyright 2013, Joe Hunter)

:::::::::::::::::::::::
 Center Field:  Part E
:::::::::::::::::::::::

Casey helped me clean up and pack our bats, batting helmets, catcher's gear
and other stuff so our dugout would be ready for the second game.  Then he
and I each grabbed one of the big canvas equipment bags and headed for my
SUV.

"You did great today," I told him.

The boy smiled shyly.  With his ball cap perched on a mop of dark hair, his
tight uniform revealing every line of slender athletic form, Casey was a
glorious sight in the dazzling noon sunshine.  His colorful sweat-dampened
shirt, emblazoned with team logo, name and number, clung to sturdy
shoulders, chest, and slender taut waist.  White baseball pants stretched
like a second skin over rounded butt, slender hips, and firm thighs.  They
were molded so close I could see the outline of the jock that was all Casey
wore underneath.  Admiring the boy as we loaded the heavy equipment bags
into my vehicle, I was struck by the lithe graceful way he moved, so
different from the hesitant awkwardness of the year before when he had been
in the shadow of his older brother.

Unlike Dink, Casey appeared not at all upset by our loss, but instead
content and very happy at having earned my praise.

"Hungry?"  I asked as he slid into the front beside me.

"Kinda."

"I'll get you something."

Casey was peering around, checking the parking area to see who might be
watching.  The moment we were out on the road, away from the field, he
leaned close against me, hand rubbing my thigh.  When I placed my fingers
up against his crotch I could felt a bulge in his tight pants – a bulge
that was more than just a protective cup.

At Subway, where we stopped for lunch, Casey appeared hungrier than he had
admitted because he wolfed down a turkey and swiss sub along with Coke and
chips while we were still inside the store.  I bought him another six-inch
sub to chew on in the car while we drove to my apartment.

Going up the stairs, once the SUV was safely put away in the garage, Casey
whispered, "Can we like do pictures again, Coach?"

"Sure."  My arm went around his slim waist and he hugged mine back.

Inside, with the door locked behind us, I took the boy into my arms and we
kissed, tongues intertwining.  Then I got out the digital camera, posing
Casey against a blank wall so he could model his baseball uniform.  We took
more than a dozen shots, with me moving around to different angles.

And then...

Grinning mischievously, my graceful centerfielder pulled up his shirt,
posed for several shots with taut bare midriff exposed, then took off his
cap, removed the shirt completely, and put the cap back on.

"Like this, Coach," he told me, leaning back against the wall in a
provocative pose.

I needed no encouragement.  Moving around, sometimes crouching to change
the perspective, I snapped shot after shot.  "You want your stuff?"  I
asked finally, straightening up.  Casey nodded and from a drawer I got the
wrist rings and bead necklace we had bought.  Decorated with these Casey
posed for more shots.  Then he started unbuttoning his pants.  He posed
first with the fly open, hands locked behind his head.  Then, wiggling his
hips provocatively, he worked the tight pants down bit by bit, gradually
exposing his jock, then his smooth gleaming hips and finally lithe supple
thighs.

Even though I was busy crouching, standing up, moving around, taking
pictures from different spots, Casey's slow strip got me so hard I had to
unbutton my own jeans to adjust my quivering member into a comfortable
position.  While I was doing that my lanky centerfielder removed his
baseball shoes, pulled his shapely legs free of the uniform pants, and
stood proudly before me clad only in cap, jock, and high socks pulled up to
just beneath his knees.  With his wrist rings and bead necklace, the boy
was a breathtakingly beautiful sight, his hard athletic body gleaming in
the light pouring in through my sliding glass balcony doors.  He posed with
his hips thrust forward, emphasizing the bulging pouch of his jock, tented
outward by the rigid shaft beneath.  Everything about the boy, his
expression, his eyes, the way he stood displaying his body, showed that he
not only was aware of how rare and perfect he was, but wanted me to know
it, too.

"Fantastic," I kept telling him.  "Fantastic, Casey.  Turn to the side a
little.  Yeah, perfect, hold that... Now this way, a little more, hold
it... Hold it... Yeah.  Perfect."

I knelt in front of him, turning him to either side, now favoring an angle
that brought out the perfect muscular curve of his butt, then shifting him
to get the tented out jock.

When I took a break, the boy hurried over to inspect his images in the back
of the camera, eagerly leaning against me, letting the hardness between his
thighs rub on my hip.

"Oh, wow," I breathed as we looked.  Casey's pictures glowed with
sensuality.  Even with primitive lighting and a plain wall backdrop the
lines of his young muscular body were sculpted to classical perfection by
the camera lens.

"These are really, really good," I was murmuring to myself, but my
centerfielder was already eager for more.  Stripping off his jock, he
struck another pose, thrusting his hips to let his hard boy stick jut
outward.  "Now like this, Coach."

"Yeah..."  My voice was husky with passion, "Hold it a sec.  Let me make
you up."

With some reluctance, because he was impatient to proceed, Casey followed
me to the bathroom.  There impatience turned to fascination as he watched
in the mirror while I applied eye shadow, mascara, lipstick, and finally a
darkener for his eyebrows.

"Nice?"  I stepped back and let him admire his reflection.

"Uh-huh!"

"Now, let's do pictures."

Clad only in ball cap and high socks, Casey took position in front of the
wall, rigid four inches on display, young body in perfect tension from
excitement and arousal.  Working the camera I went around him, shooting
from every angle and the boy posed standing, crouching, kneeling, lying
down.  Arching his graceful athletic body, writhing and twisting, it was as
if Casey was making love to the camera lens.  When we stopped at last,
camera batteries drained, Casey lay stretched on the floor, one knee up,
arms sprawled wide, panting as if he had just finished one of his immature
orgasms.  A gleam of wetness sparkled on the tip of his quivering rod.

"We'll check these out later," I whispered, putting the camera aside.
Picking the boy up, I carried him into my bedroom and was about to take off
his baseball cap, but Casey begged, "No, leave it on, Coach."

Reaching for me, he pulled me onto the bed, mouth locking on mine.  When we
broke for air I stripped off my clothes, nearly tearing them I was in such
a hurry.  Then I fell back into his arms, rolling on the bed.  Casey's hard
young silkiness pressed close, writhing, twisting in passion... my mouth on
his... kissing... kissing chin, throat, the firm wrestling-hard muscles of
his chest... licking tiny hard nipples, perfect vee of ribs... following
the lines in his narrow smooth tummy... tongue tip swirling in his belly
button... the boy moaning and squirming...

Further down, Casey's taut lower belly led straight to a silky groin and
rigid boner, its slick stretched skin thin and smooth as cellophane,
tasting of the sweetness of boy.  Lapping at it, licking the hard rod like
a popsicle, I made it glisten with my saliva, then slipped it deep into my
mouth.  The boy gasped in ecstasy, spreading his silky thighs, sock clad
lower legs kicking over me in passionate pleasure.  Reaching down he took
hold of my head and humped my mouth, wanting it all, desperate for my
tongue, my mouth, my lips to bring him to release.  Panting, thrusting
again and again, Casey gasped,
"Ohh... Oh... Oh... Oh... Coach... Coach... Uh... Uhhhhhhh..."

A tremor shook the boy... another.  Sudden rising tension... a gasping
climax of heaving spasm.  The stiff shaft in my mouth swelled and throbbed,
jerking again and again, slippery sweetness pouring from its slit onto my
tongue.  I licked and sucked, my palms stroking Casey's glossy hips, waist,
sides....  Breathing deep, I filled my nose with his wonderful boy
scent... wanting all of him, forever... heaving, jerking pleasure... on and
on and on...

It stopped all too soon with Casey lying sprawled on the bed, panting,
mascaraed eyes staring upward.  His ball cap was twisted around on his dark
hair.  I sucked the last dribble of milky droplets from his quivering boy
stick, then licked back up the muscular sheath of his tummy, back to his
chest, licking again on the nipples, sucking on each one.  Moaning, Casey
writhed beneath me, hands sliding over my back and shoulders, tugging and
pulling... desperate to weld our bodies together.  I turned around, and the
moment my own hardness was in the boy's face it was engulfed in sweet moist
warmth as Casey took it into his mouth.  An instant later his tongue was
licking at the tip.  Then his arms were around me, pulling my shaft in
deep.  Struggling, gagging, he locked my tip in his throat.

It was nearly too much for me.  Overwhelmed by sensation I jerked and
nearly shot my load.  Only a frantic clench of my butt held most of it in.
Even so a partial spurt escaped and Casey had to pull back to swallow.  His
tongue swirled around the blunt head of my rod, tasting and exploring.

Licking down onto his groin again I sucked briefly on the tip of his rigid
boyhood, then drew up his firm thighs, parting them so I could take his
tight little nut sac into my mouth.  Casey moaned while I sucked on each of
his small treasures, then my tongue got busy again, working its way from
the base of his sac into his crease, following the pathway to a puckered,
clenched opening.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Groaning in passion, Casey pulled my full length back deep into his throat,
arms locking around me, face pressed to my groin.  I felt him tense as he
bore down, then the puckered dimple of his boy hole opened, admitting the
tip of my thrusting tongue.

"Uhhh... Uhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Arms tight around me, Casey strained his thighs apart.  I breathed deeply
of his intoxicating boy scent, my questing tongue tip swirling within him.
My lovely centerfielder tasted of nothing but sweetness, his cherry-tight
rim clean and good.  Caressing his thighs with my palms, tonguing him, I
could feel passion overwhelming the boy.  He tensed, arched, and then
jerked beneath me, sock covered lower legs kicking in ecstasy.

"Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh... Uh..." Casey panted, sliding the head of my man
rod out of his throat just far enough so he could breathe.  Warmth engulfed
my tip again as he resumed tonguing my shaft, bobbing his head to let it
move through his lips.  The boy seemed frantic for it, as if he could never
have enough, working me with his whole mouth, greedy for every inch, his
small palms sliding over my hips and butt cheeks.

With a frantic thrust of my own tongue I penetrated up into Casey as far as
I could... withdrew... licked back to his tight nut sac... sucked on
it... then went for his boy stick, first slicking the jutting little shaft
with saliva, rubbing my tongue back and forth over his sensitive tip and
finally sliding all of it into my mouth.

"Uhhhhhhhhhhh..."

Casey groaned with desire, clutching onto me with arms and legs so he could
hump my mouth, desperate to feel the sensation of his rigid boner sliding
through my lips.  The boy's response was so intense, the movements of his
hard young body beneath me so passionate, it was all I could do to hold
myself back.  Twice already I had nearly lost it: once while taking
pictures of him, and then again when he had first taken me so eagerly into
his mouth.  Now, wanting to prolong the boy's pleasure for his sake, I was
making a despite effort to restrain myself, but everything in me was
slipping over the precipice toward a climax nothing could hold back.  Casey
was so perfect, the scent of his heated flesh so intoxicating....  I willed
it to go on and on for him.  I wanted nothing but to pleasure him forever.
But it was all too much.  Casey's hands were insistent... demanding... his
silken body writhing on mine...

"Ahhhhhhhh..."  With a cry of ecstasy I filled my arms with the boy's
sweetness, then pulled his rock hard four inches all the way in.  A
pulsating throb made my hips buck, sending a gush of warmth into Casey's
throat... then in heave after bucking heave I was gone, pulsating spurts of
my hot seed shooting into his gullet.

Not yet experienced enough to swallow completely, Casey gagged for a
moment, opening his mouth to let part of the flood escape.  He quivered,
jerked... and then his hips were bucking frantically along with mine,
warmth from his slit squirting into my mouth, a sensation so sweet it sent
me to further heights, a double climax like an electric shock, my body
jerking in heave after ecstatic heave that I never wanted to stop.

At last I was gasping for air, weight supported on my elbows, with Casey
sprawled beneath me, panting as well.  He was sucking at my tip greedily,
tonguing the slit, and suddenly the head of my quivering shaft was so
sensitive I had to make him stop.  Shifting position I got turned around,
Casey reaching for me, the boy's face streaked with milky strands of my
load, more of it dribbling from the corners of his mouth.  Tenderly I
licked it all off before taking him into my arms, tasting myself in his
mouth as I kissed him.

"Coach, you made a lot," was his whisper to me when at last our lips
parted.

"You made plenty yourself," I murmured back, nuzzling his face.  Casey
giggled.

"C'mon," I told him.

Leading the boy into the bathroom, I started the shower.  Casey took off
his cap and socks, then we got in beneath the hot water.

It was as if I had opened a floodgate within the boy, as if he could never
have enough.  He hugged squirming against me while I lathered and shampooed
him, his fingers in my groin, working on my now flaccid member.

"Make it big again," he pleaded.

I shook my head.  "After it shoots so much, it's gotta rest for a while."
My fingers slid on him, Casey's boy stick still rock hard, jutting out like
a tent spike.  "When you start shootin' big-time it'll be the same for
you."

He looked up at me in dismay.  "Then I doan' wanna!"

Smiling, I shook my head again.  "Nothin' you can do.  It happens all by
itself."

"Am I gonna get hair, too?"

"Yup."

Casey hugged against me.  "No, Coach.  Make it stop."

Holding my lovely centerfielder, hugging and caressing him beneath the
cascading water, I whispered, "Wish I could, Tiger.  Wish I could..."

When we came out of the shower, Casey insisted on being made up again with
the eye shadow, mascara and lipstick.  Then, for fun, I sifted sparkles of
glitter into his dark hair.  After admiring himself in the mirror, Casey
put on his necklace and wrist rings, pulled on his high socks, adjusted the
ball cap on his sparkling hair, and then smelling of soap and shampoo,
turned to me offering his lips.  As we kissed, his hand pulled mine down
onto his rigid quivering boyhood, making it very clear what he wanted.  I
followed him to the bedroom and Casey stretched out on his back, knees up,
slender thighs straining apart.  With his hands holding my head in place, I
took his boner into my mouth and used fingers, lips and tongue to bring him
into another series of heaving, jerking boycums.  "More..." He kept
demanding.  "Ohhhhh... More... More, Coach... Don't stop... Don't stop..."

I was more than willing.  Casey was doing all the work, humping my mouth,
writhing and twisting his hips.  All I had to do was suck on his perfect
four-inch spike while it slid through my lips.  Gradually my own big member
regained its strength, lifting once more into rigidity.  The moment I
crawled around into position, Casey was grabbing at it, licking with his
tongue, kissing the blunt tip, sucking the head, then finally taking my
full length into his mouth.  Already he was getting the knack of holding my
tip deep in his throat, swirling his tongue, bobbing just enough to let me
feel his lips on my shaft, the swell of my blunt tip sliding past the back
of his tongue.  It was an incredible sensation, and if not for my big
release earlier it would have brought me off there and then.  As it was my
hips jerked, warmth running from my slit.  But having been drained already,
it took time for the new charge to build.  I was able to bring Casey into
more of his heaving spasms before jerking another hot load into his throat.

Insatiable, the boy wanted even more afterwards, tugging at me, pulling my
head towards his groin, but eventually I talked him down off his high.  At
length he was willing to let me up and I took him into the kitchen where he
ate a snack I made for him, but the entire time he was rubbing against me,
sliding the head of his stiff boy rod on my thigh.  Later on, while we
played a videogame together, he wrapped one of the shear silky cloths we
had bought around his hips and kept pulling my hand down wanting to be
rubbed through the thin fabric.  It was all I could do to make him wash off
the make up and get dressed when it was time to leave.

"Lemme stay over, Coach," Casey begged.  "Tomorrow's Sunday."

"Maybe sometime," I promised him.  "But we can't now.  Think about it.
What's Cody and your mom gonna suspect?  Let me work on it."

Reluctantly the boy followed me out to the car where he cuddled close, my
hand between his parted thighs, for all of the 10 miles out to his house.

* * * * *

It was two weeks before we had another Saturday game and in the meantime we
won against our next three opponents.  During that second week school
ended, and following a tradition I had started several years earlier I made
the last day of school a special occasion.  That last day was always a
half-day.  When the kids were dismissed for the summer at noon, Carol, our
team mother, had their parents waiting for them so they could be driven
right to our practice field.  There we had a picnic lunch ready, complete
with ice cream.  Then we played a six inning scrimmage game between two
squads that we had picked earlier - a red team and a blue team, since red
and blue were our team colors.

What made this contest interesting every year were the special conditions I
set.  First I designated two captains who picked alternately to form the
red and blue squads.  Bryce and JJ were the captains I assigned that year
and the squads ended up like this:

Red Team - Bryce (Capt.), Casey, Bo, Dink, Rainman, Tiny, and Peewee.

Blue Team - JJ (Capt.), Cowboy, Kelly, Wheels, Slick, and Evan.

True to form, Bryce had picked for hitters, JJ for pitching.

"Okay," I told them, "Red Squad, you got seven players.  Blue, you got six.
A baseball team needs nine!  So Bryce, JJ, it's up to you to find more
players."

All my 12-year-olds were grinning because they had done this the previous
year and knew what was coming, but the 11-year-old rookies looked confused.
"Who we gonna get, Coach?" Kelly asked.

"That's up to you," I answered with a grin.  "But you gotta follow my
special rules.  Whatever kids you get have to be 12-years-old or younger,
and they can't be kids from any of the other teams in our league."

"Cool!"  Kelly turned to his lacrosse buddy, Slick, and the two of them
touched fists.  I was sure they were thinking of other boys playing
lacrosse they could recruit.

"Is it same as last year, Coach?"  Bryce had been whispering with Casey and
now he looked at me.  "Winner gets an overnight on the mountain?"

"Cool!" Kelly exclaimed again, even louder.

"Yep."  I smiled at all the boys.  "Same as last year.  Weekend after next
I'll take the winners, including the extra kids, up on the mountain.  You
can fish and camp overnight."

There were smiles and grins all around.  Kelly and Slick exchanged another
fist bump.

That was on a Wednesday.  School ended the following week on Tuesday and in
the time between all that was talked about at practice was the upcoming
scrimmage.  The boys were more excited about it than the regular game we
played on Thursday night, a game against a weak opponent that we won
easily.

"It's a good thing we weren't playin' you guys," I told my friend, Big
Mike, whose team had played earlier and who had then umpired our game.
"All my kids are thinkin' about right now is our End-of-School Scrimmage
Party.  I don't think they were concentrating very hard on this game."

Mike laughed.  "They did okay.  I think that End-of-School thing you do is
a good idea.  Our team's havin' a picnic.  Maybe next year I'll try that
scrimmage idea of yours.  You don't think it hurts team unity, playin' 'em
against each other?"

I nodded in appreciation of the point he was raising.  "I suppose it could.
But so far I haven't seen it happen.  If anything, it just seems to get
them all closer.  The winners do get a camp out, but before the season ends
I always find ways for the kids on the losing side to do something special
too."

"That's 'cause you spoil 'em all," Mike said with a chuckle.  "But I like
that business of bringin' in the outside kids.  Maybe get a kid interested
in signing up next year who didn't get in this time."

"That's the idea," I told him.

Since we had no game that Saturday I scheduled a practice and Ruth showed
up at the end to take Casey home, so there was no chance for us to hook up
that weekend.  For Monday's practice Casey arrived early, running over to
me for a caress as soon as his mother's car was out of sight.  "Hang in
there, Champ," I told him.  "We'll have more times together."

All through that Monday practice excitement over the next day's scrimmage
was evident.  I heard a good deal of whispering (accompanied by laughter
and giggles) as secret plans were discussed.  One of our traditions was
that the identities of those extra boys filling out the rosters should be
kept secret, so I did not ask for any names.  When I checked with Bryce and
JJ to see if they were ready with nine players, both nodded, grinning.

"Okay," I told them.  "Make sure you're all set.  Without nine players
you're forfeit.  And that would be a shame!"

[ To Be Continued In Parts F through I ]

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

Hope you enjoyed it!  This baseball series has a 'long' short story for
every position.  Look for a new chapter or two each month.

Thanks for taking the time to read my story and if you'd like to comment,
my e-mail address is:

			hunterjoe45@yahoo.com

I will try to answer all serious mailings.  My on-line access is very
limited.  Rants and ravings will not get consideration.

To all you readers who enjoy these stories, please support Nifty with
contributions and keep the Archive online.  Check the Nifty home page for
ways to make contributions.  Without this Archive those of us who write for
you will lose a wonderful resource to get our stories out.

You can find links to all my other stories on Nifty under my name, Joe
Hunter, listed under the J's (for Joe) in the prolific authors list.  To
get that list click the Authors tab at the top of the Nifty home page and
then select 'Prolific Authors'.  I hope you will read and enjoy!

All the Best.  Joe