Chapter 3 – Chapter 3

"Tell me about your first time," I said. He moved off of me, propped his head, and moved his right hand over my chest and stomach.

"It was my senior year of high school. I was eighteen. My fraternal twin, Conrad, ran around with a group of guys. They were all Seniors, too. When they were together in the basement, they often fake raped each other. When I ventured down there, they fake raped me."

"Fake raped?"

"You know. Held me down. Pretended to fuck me through my clothes."

"Weird."

"I think it's something teenaged boys do. Skin hunger and all that. . . . Anyway, I noticed that one of the guys – Tom – did it more often than the others and often was hard when he did it. One night, he came over looking for Conrad, who shared my room. When I told him Conrad was out, he asked if he could wait in our room. I said sure. I was sitting at the desk doing homework and he was sitting on Conrad's bed, flipping through the swimsuit edition of a Sports Illustrated. He called me over and started showing me pictures and commenting on this one's tits or that one's legs. After awhile, he slid his leg over mine and scooted closer to me. I was titillated as our bodies touched. He kept flipping. He casually mentioned that he was getting boned up. I answered 'me, too.' He laid the magazine on our legs and flipped pages with his left hand. With his right, he took hold of my dick through my shorts and started rubbing the head with his thumb. I took hold of him with my left hand and did to him what he was doing to me. He slid his hand into my shorts and took hold of me. With my left hand, I untied his sweatpants, slid my hand into them, and took hold of him. We continued to stare at the magazine as we jerked each other off. When he came, I wiped my hand on my shirt. When I came, he also wiped his hand on my shirt. When Connie got home, we acted like nothing had happened."

"Was that it?"

"No. He started finding reasons to come over when Connie wasn't home. When he did, he always waited in our room. After a few handjobs, he gave me a blow job, so I gave him one back. I liked it more than I thought I would. I actually liked giving blowjobs better than I liked getting them."

"How long did you guys fool around?"

"Until we left for college. I'm not sure if Connie knew what was going on or not. If he did, he never mentioned it."

"How did you get away with it?"

"Tom and I became friends apart from Connie. We started hanging out. He started inviting me over for sleepovers. We never did much sleeping. We had a lot of sex."

"Did you fuck?"

"I fucked him. He never fucked me."

"Did he like it?"

"No. He loved it. I'd fuck him, finish, and then suck him."

"Did you kiss?"

"All the time. Without ever saying so, we were boyfriends. We were together all the time."

"What happened when he stayed at your house?"

"It didn't happen often. With four boys of their own, my parents weren't wild about having more boys over. I usually stayed over there."

"What happened?"

"We went off to college, him for academics, me for sports, and that was that."

"Did you love him?"

"I don't think so. I liked having sex. But, I don't think I loved Tom. I don't think he loved me, either."

"Was he gay?"

"I don't know. He's married now, so maybe not."

"Was he your only boyfriend?"

"No. I had one in A ball, too."

We had known each other for twelve hours. It seemed like it had been twelve years.

We decided we needed to wash the dried cum and sweat away. We showered together. Cal slowly, steadily washed my body with his bare hands. It was one of the most erotic experiences of my life. His hands were strong, but not rough. He explored my body with purpose, but not precision. It was random and scattered and extremely erotic.

I reciprocated, noticing things I hadn't noticed before. His long hair covered ears that stuck way out, like Luke Hochever's. He had a trache scar on his neck, the result of an EMT's efforts after he had swallowed a bolt as a two year old and turned blue. He had large, dark nipples. He had a scar from when they had removed his appendix, also in an emergency as it was about to burst. He had a scar on his left knee from where they had repaired a torn ACL. He also had a scar on his left calf from where they had repaired a torn achilles tendon. Like his wrists, his ankles were thick. His feet were large, athletic, and hairless, but for a dusting of curly brown hair on the tops of his toes.

We talked as we dried ourselves. He had spent a lot of his career on the disabled list. This season, he was finally healthy.

"Are you a reliever or a starter?"

"Like all relievers, I'm a failed starter."

"Are you right- or left-handed?"

"Luckily, I'm a Southpaw. I have more margin for error. Righties are a dime a dozen. Lefties are rare."

"Are you good?"

"Well . . . . I'm in the show."

"I mean, are you good, for a major leaguer?"

"I had a strong year last year. I'm having a better year this year. Which is a good thing. It's my walk year. I'm working on an extension with the Royals now. They stuck with me when I was hurt. I'd like to return the loyalty, even if it costs me a little dough."

I was drying my feet. I smiled at the floor. I like what he had just revealed about his character.

When breakfast arrived, I ducked into the bathroom. I was not to be heard or seen.

"We'll have to share a plate," he said, apologetically. "I had to order for one. To be careful."

We breakfasted in robes, listening to classical music and talking casually. As we finished, he asked if he could see me that night after the game. Without hesitation, I agreed.

"You should know something, though."

"What's that?" I asked, fearing he was going to tell me he had lied about being clean or married.

"I have a girlfriend."

"Oh," I answered, the disappointment plain on my face and in my voice.

"She's a disguise," he answered. "No one can know who I am. Baseball's not ready. I'd get run out of the league."

"Does she know?"

"God no."

"Do you fuck her?"

"Yes."

"So, what, you're bi?"

"No. I'm less than the 65/35 you claim. I'm like 80/20, at best. I'd rather have a boyfriend. I just can't, at least not publicly. I have to have a girlfriend. I fuck her so she doesn't get suspicious. What twenty-seven year old guy doesn't fuck his girlfriend?"

"This is a lot to take in."

"I know. It was a lot to say. You're the first guy I've told. With everyone else, I'm always someone else. And I don't do repeats."

"Repeats?"

"I don't see them again. I'm a one and done."

We finished our food in silence. I was stumped. I didn't know how to digest what he had told me. I also didn't know how to digest that he had told me. I barely knew him, yet he had entrusted me with his biggest secret. If I wanted, I could rain havoc down on him.

Like he was reading my mind, he said, "It's good to tell someone. It's a lot to carry."

"I won't tell anyone," I promised. "Ever."

"Thank you. . . . You should come to the game tonight. I'll leave a ticket at Will Call, in case you decide to. If not, we can meet back here after."

I suggested I should get going. Without a word, Cal coaxed me toward a little more carnality before I left. He stood up, dropped his robe to the floor, and stood before me. It was an arrogant move, but I liked it. His hip bones and muscles formed that perfect V that points to the promised land. His muscles rippled. He had little body fat.

I wordlessly moved toward him. "Raise your arms," I said. He did, and I buried my face in the manliness of his armpit, my tongue lapping at the tenderness and hairiness of it. I moved to his sides and then to his hip bone. By the time I got to his groin, he was hard. I licked the precum from his slit, the intersection of his leg and crotch, and his balls. I was headed down his inner thighs when he grabbed my face and forced himself into my mouth and then my throat. I was happy to allow him complete control, willing to play the submissive and let him dominate my face again. He came hard, over and over, again without warning. I swallowed it all.

Before I could wipe the cum off my chin, Cal pulled me up and kneeled in frontof me. After adding his hand, he worked me as purposefully as he could. My body started to tingle, and my orgasm started in my balls and shot through me and into his mouth. He moaned as he swallowed all I had. Sweat broke out all over my body as he climbed up me and wrapped his body around mine.

"I could get used to this," he said.

"Me, too," I answered, surprising myself with my honesty.

*****

At work, my nurse inquired about my date with Michael. I was embarrassed to admit I was late and had missed him.

"Matthew!"

"It's Matthias, not Matthew. But, I know. I'm sorry. I'm a heel."

"Did you do it on purpose?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I told you I'm horrible at meeting new people. And, I'm even worse at dating. There's a reason my longest adult relationship was shorter than an ectopic pregnancy."

It was a game we played. I always tried to one-up myself with my metaphors. I took after my grandfather.

"Matt!"

I answered her with the most mischievous smile I could muster, after I told her it was "Matty Joe," not "Matt."

To make it up to her, I took her to lunch. Over south side tacos, I casually asked if she had ever heard of Calvin Lowden.

"Of course," she answered. "He's a pitcher for the Royals. He has a beautiful girlfriend who's one of the heirs of a Kansas City candy fortune. The two of them have been on the cover of People magazine. . . . Why do you ask?"

"I met him last night. I thought he was Michael. It was pretty funny actually."

"You met him last night? Did you talk to him?"

"I did. We shared a drink."

"Wow."

"That's all. Don't get all fussy."

"Is he as hot in person as he is on TV?"

"I've never seen him other than in person. But, he's definitely hot in person."

"And, what, you two just sat and talked?"

"We did. He's a really cool guy. He totally took the fact that I mistook him for my date in stride."

"Lucky you."

Yes, I thought to myself, lucky me.

*****

That night, I watched from afar as the Royals drubbed the White Sox. Cal didn't pitch. He was a left-handed relief specialist. He didn't mop up.

After a cab ride to the Drake, I took an elevator to twelve and then climbed five flights of stairs to seventeen. I assumed there were cameras in the elevators, and I didn't want to exit on seventeen two nights in a row. As I ascended, I realized the error of my ways: I should have taken the elevator to twenty-two and then descended five flights to seventeen!

I entered Cal's room as stealthily as I could. He was on the bed, on the telephone. Wearing only gym shorts, he held up this thumb and forefinger to signal he would be on the telephone a while longer. From the tone of his voice, I suspected he was talking to Kate, the heiress to the candy fortune.

I could hear only his end of the conversation.

"Nah, I was tired. I showered and then came straight back to the hotel."

"Probably pretty late. We don't go until 7:05 tomorrow night, so we don't have to be at the park until 3:30."

Cal put his hand over the receiver and mouthed "take your clothes off" to me. I stood at the foot of the bed and slowly stripped for him as he continued with Kate.

"I'll probably order a martini, watch some TV, and then hit the sack," he said, smiling at me and grabbing his crotch to show the effect I had had on him.

I went risky. I climbed up between his legs and licked up his stomach. When he stopped me with his hand, I moved my mouth to his nipple and started sucking.

"You want to fool around?"

I froze and raised my eyes. He was talking to Kate, but looking at me.

"I could."

"Okay. Hold on. Let me take my shorts off." He put the phone to his chest and mouthed "you do it" to me.

When I had, he continued, "Alright, tell me what I'm doing to you. I'll just play along." His head nod toward his erection told me exactly what he wanted me to do. As Kate told him a sex story I couldn't hear, I took him in my mouth and slowly made love to his dick.

"Where are my hands?"

"You're really wet."

"You taste really good."

"I want to make you come with my dick."

"God, you feel better than you taste."

"Can you feel me against your back wall?"

"Are you ready for me to fuck you?"

"I'm going as slowly as I can, but you feel so good."

"I love being inside of you."

I looked up at him. He was smiling down at me. I added my hand to his shaft and went at him as hard as I could.

"Beg for my dick . . . . Beg for it."

He went silent, but I could feel his balls and legs clench.

"Beg me to come inside you," he said.

She must have. I could feel him heading home.

"Oh, Kate, I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."

He arched his back and filled my mouth. I gulped and gulped and kept at him. He groaned into the telephone. It was a base, gutteral groan. I kept my eyes on his as I swirled my tongue around the slick tip of his dick. Again, he smiled down at me.

"That was really hot," he said. He was talking to Kate but looking at me.

"All over my chest and stomach," he lied as I continued to lick his balls and his softening dick.

"Not as much as I love you."

"Sleep well."

He replaced the receiver. "Come up here."

I did. "I feel kind of dirty about that," I admitted.

"I don't. It was fucking awesome. Way better than jacking off."

"Do you two do that often?"

"No. It's a relatively new thing. It was her idea. I think she thinks it'll keep me from straying. Ballplayers are notorious for road sex."

"Has it worked?"

"Matthias, you just sucked my dick while I was pretending to masturbate. Isn't the load you swallowed a pretty clear answer to your question?"

"I meant with women?"

"No. Women throw themselves at us. If you never catch the throw, you're either a pussy whipped bitch, a banger, or a closet case."

"A banger?"

"A bible banger. Baseball's littered with religious nutjobs. A half dozen guys on my team have a nightly bible study. It's weird, letting a book written by a bunch of privileged white men thousands of years ago govern your life in the year 2000."

"So, you pick up women on the road?"

"I do. I make a public show of it. I tell them I like loud sex. I get them hootin' and hollerin' so everyone on the hall can hear them and know that I'm balls deep in some strange. When I'm finished, I make sure they make a very public walk of shame and then I lock myself in my room, try to resolve the revulsion at what I've just done, and usually wind up scrubbing myself raw in the shower. . . . But it works. I get my hound points. And none of my teammates suspect I'm imagining their ass or dick while I fuck some woman who's thrilled she's got a ballplayer's dick in her."

"Do you really think they'd care if they knew?"

"My friends wouldn't. Hell, they might even try to get me to blow them. But the rest of baseball? And its fans? They'd care. A lot. People fear what they don't know. Until people know gay people, they'll fear them."

"Wouldn't coming out help them know gay people?"

"Probably, but who wants to be the scout? I don't. I don't want to be the first one on the beach at Normandy. I want that beach safe and secure before I get in the water and swim ashore."

"Someone has to storm the beach."

"Sure, but it doesn't have to be me. I'd have been a terrible pioneer. I never would have tried to cross a river, much less a gorge or a mountain."

"When did you first figure out you were gay or, at least, mostly gay?"

"You mean, 'when did you you figure out you liked sucking dick more than you liked getting your dick sucked'?"

"Yes."

"Easy. 1983. The Outsiders. The whole cast was hot. I was ten. I had just learned to masturbate. When I did, it was Matt Dillon, C. Thomas Howell, and Rob Lowe. Sometimes it was all of them."

Without realizing it, we had settled face to face on his bed. My left hand was on his cheek, and my left thumb was flicking at his ear as we talked.

"How old were you when you first kissed a boy?" I asked.

"Eighth grade. Bobby Muldrew had a boy-girl graduation party and then a boys only sleepover. The mixed party was the first one in our class. We played spin the bottle and two minutes in the closet. We were all riled up. Bobby and I slept on his bedroom floor. The other boys were in the spare room or the basement. It was dark and late. We were in sleeping bags, but facing each other, like this. He talked about how cool all the kissing had been. He asked if any of the girls had let me use my tongue. I said no. He asked if I wanted to see what it was like. My heart stopped beating. My mouth went arid. I said yes. He leaned over and kissed me. It was the first time I had ever french kissed anyone. I'm sure it wasn't, but I remember it as being the best kiss of my life."

"God, you were younger than I was. What happened with Bobby?"

"We french-kissed the summer away. We jerked off together a couple of times. We were headed toward more, but he moved away."

"That's too bad."

"It was. He had a really nice dick. I wanted to suck it."

I moved over him. I told him to roll a condom on me. When he frowned and started to protest, I ordered him to "Do it!"

He did. I licked and sucked his nipples as he guided me to his opening. I locked my eyes on his as I entered and then fucked him as deliberately as I could. He moved his hand to himself and matched my rhythm.

"I can't believe I'm letting you fuck me again."

"I told you you'd like it."

"I don't."

"You're lying."

"Maybe."

"Look at you. There's no maybe about it."

"I want to come when you do."

"I could come any time."

"Wait. I'm not there yet."

I slowed down while he sped up. His chest and face were slick with sweat.

"Okay," he said. "I'm almost there."

I started back up. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the sight of his left hand around himself was too much for me. I slammed into him with animal lust. I dripped sweat onto him.

"I'm there," he panted.

"Me, too."

"Let's go."

We did. I got lost in my orgasm. My whole body shook. I felt like I had to close my eyes to keep them from popping out.

I felt Cal's orgasm through the walls of his rectum. When I opened my eyes, he was coated from chin to navel with his sprays of cum.

My arms gave way. I collapsed onto him. He wrapped his arms and legs around me. I buried my face in the crook of his neck. I slid my arms and legs under him, balling us up. I was still inside him.

"That was unbelievable," I said.

"I need you to pull out. My ass is wrecked."

I pulled my dick out of him, but I slipped my tongue into him. We kissed and kissed and kissed. It was not the kiss of a booty call. It was the kiss of something more. We fell asleep covered in cum and sweat.

When we awoke, his chest was against my back, his right leg was between my legs, and his right arm was around me. His body radiated heat. I pulled his hand to my mouth and kissed the back of it.

"I have to get going soon," he whispered. "Today's game is at 1:15. I have to be at the park by 9:45."

"That's not what you told Kate," I reminded him.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," he said.

"Why did you?"

"Self-preservation . . . . I know I barely know you, but . . . . I really like what I know."

I knew what he meant. I decided to confirm it.

"I know what you mean. I've felt it from the moment we met. There's something there."

"There is."

"And you were trying to shut it down before it got too big."

"I was trying to shut it down before I couldn't."

"Well, I can go whenever you want, but I'd like to stay. And when I go, I'll go. Gently. Into that good night."

"I want you to stay until I have to go."

"What'll we do in meantime?"

He poked his erection into my backside. "Elmer has an idea."

"Elmer?"

"I named my dick Elmer."

"Why?"

"He looks like an Elmer."

I rolled over, rolled Cal onto his back, and looked intently at his dick. "I don't know," I said. "I think he looks more like a Bruce. Or a Dave."

"You should see what he tastes like."

"I know what he tastes like."

"Remind yourself."

I did. Figuring today was the last day for Matty Joe and Cal, I devoured Elmer with as much gusto as I could muster. I worked him like a professional, taking him to the edge, but refusing to let him fall. When he finally did, he was soaked with sweat, he arched his back, and he cried out. I gulped down all he unloaded and then moved my mouth to his. I wanted him to taste himself on my tongue.