My Baseball Buddy Ch. 02

Morning came at me hard. And not in a good way.

I drowsily came back to consciousness, then snapped awake with a wild start and feeling of panic. I was in my bed, and by the sun in the window I deduced it was Saturday morning.

And then the memories from last night flooded my brain.

Holy shit. Did I...?

Did we...?

Oh shit, that was real, wasn't it?

Did I really just fuck my best bud? Did I really ram my dick up his... you, know, his bunghole? Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. What the Hell do I do now?

I low rumble of panic set in. I... I'm not gay. I'm not. I swear I'm not. I don't go around checking out guys. I never jerked off thinking about my buds in college. What the Hell does it mean?

And then a new horror started dawning on me. Did my wife know? Could she tell? Do I reek of sex? Oh God... did Nate tell her?

At that, I mentally slapped myself. I mean, of course not. There's no way Nate said anything, or that he even had a chance to. Jesus, Will... get it together. Let's just think about this for a minute.

I threw back the sheets and padded into the bathroom to look at myself. Looking in the mirror, I didn't see any tell-tale signs of anything. I guess I don't look gay. Then I panicked, thinking I might be... you, know... crusty. I recalled that shortly after I blew my load, Nate had grabbed a couple of towels and we cleaned ourselves off. Unfortunately, I can't remember much about how we left things... I kinda just grabbed my stuff and left. I think it was a bit awkward, but maybe not? Shit.

Well, nothing to do about it now. I figured I'd best just start playing this out. From the smell of coffee, my wife had already gotten her day started. I was terrified to face her, but decided to get it over with.

I wandered downstairs to see her fiddling with her phone. I stopped. And looked at her. My stomach about dropped through the floor. I think that's when the reality of what happened really started to hit me. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt totally adrift. Last night I had boldly walked through a door that I didn't even know existed, and now I was in a New World. Did I like it? Now what do I do? And what about the two people I was closest to? How do they fit into this New World?

"Hey babe," I said noncommittally from the doorway. My wind whirling in 12 different directions at once.

She looked up and gave me a wry, knowing smirk. Panic started rising. "Good morning, sunshine. You look... kinda a wreck."

"Mmm? Oh sorry. Yeah, after the boys won the championship, things got... a little... out of hand with Nate. We may have overdone it in our celebrating." Well... it was the truth.

She broke into a grin. "I thought as much. You still want to go to the farmer's market this morning? Or are you nursing a hangover?"

That's... it? That was all? My mind a raging panic attack, on the brink of a meltdown, and that was all she was going to ask? About going to the fucking farmer's market? My immediate terror started to recede. Maybe things weren't as bad as I thought. I tried to be as cool as I could. "We can go, sure. I gotta shower. I... um... reek of spilled beer."

"Eww, go!" she shot back. "Get away from me with all those nasty man-smells! But hurry up, we're getting a late start as it is."

It's funny, as I went back upstairs to shower, I was thinking about "nasty man smells." But they weren't nasty. Not at all. I remember holding Nate close, my nose pressed right behind his ear, and breathing his scent. It was... powerfully lodged in my mind. Intimate. Masculine. And 100% Nate. I remember my face pressed against his sweaty back. The smell of him. Sweat. Sex.

Stop it. I had to get it together. What the Hell was happening? What was I doing? I'm a guy. Guys don't fuck each other... right? This was all a... mistake? And yet, once I was in the shower, and I could feel the hot water running down my body, running down my balls, I could instantly remember the warmth of Nate's mouth. Enveloping my cock. Every fiber of my being reaching out to him. The best blow job I had ever had.

And I realized I was jacking myself. Soap suds blanketing my hairy crotch. As my other hand drifted across my hairy pecs. Fuck I was hard.

Shit. No. Snap out of this. I snapped the water to "cold" until my balls nearly shank into my body. No. I gotta figure this out. Use your big head, Will... not your little head.

But there was no avoiding it. While we wandered through the farmer's market, I had a chance to weigh my thoughts. As my wife chattered along and inspected the season's bounty, I kept going back to last night. And whatever panic I had, whatever crisis of identity I was pondering... everything was slowly being pushed aside by memories of... how fucking good everything felt.

Fortunately, I was able to hide my midsection well in a profusion of produce bags, because my dick was at half-staff the entire time we were out.

I mean, it felt... So. Fucking. Good. My body had... awakened. That feeling of bottoming out in Nate's hole, feeling my bush against his hairy hole was so fucking incredible. Tighter than anything. Tighter than the virgins I deflowered in college. It was like... fuck, it was amazing.

And it was so fucking masculine. We went at it harder than any sex I'd ever had with a woman. Direct. Appreciative. Athletic. Unafraid of making a mess. So, so... physical. I mean, even kissing him, with that stubble that...

And I think that's what really hit me. Seeing in my mind's eye Nate's familiar stubble. And then realizing I was kissing... Nate. The hottest guy I knew. The guyest guy I knew. My bud. A guy who got me. Who I connected with on such a deep level. Nate. The look in his eyes when we connected. Nate.

Nate.

And suddenly I wasn't really afraid anymore. The anxiousness I had felt all morning was replaced by a different kind of anxiousness.

I wanted to reach out to Nate, but one of the unspoken agreements I had with my wife is that if Nate and I got uninterrupted baseball time, I owed her a proportionate amount of uninterrupted time and attention. My wife and I ended up having a busy day of it running errands and such, with an understanding that I'd be free to run over to Nate's for the game when we were done. I didn't volunteer that as they clinched last night, tonight's game was a bit of a throwaway--I doubt the boys were even sober yet--and was eminently missable. I also didn't advertise that as the game was on the West coast again, it wouldn't get started until much later. I just went with the flow and mentally prepared for heading over "like normal" around dinner time. Watching the clock as close as I possibly could.

Finally, I saw a chance to get away. I bit down hard to seem too excited as gathered up to go over, and my wife just rolled her eyes kindly at me as I grabbed my keys and left. "Don't wait up!" I called out to her.

Really, I thought. Don't.

It was a massive effort not to sprint those few feet to Nate's back door. My nerves were shredded. We hadn't gotten a chance to talk, and wasn't entirely sure how he'd receive me. I was going off of our normal routine and just walking in as normal. I hoped he was cool. I hoped he had... well...

Jesus I was a wreck.

I nearly wrenched the backdoor off its hinges and popped in. "Nate, bud? You here?"

There was a pause.

"Yeah. Downstairs."

My spider-sense seemed to pick up that something was... a bit... off. I was hoping he was cool, but the vibe I was getting was... cold.

I took a breath and trotted down the stairs. Hopeful, but with a touch of caution. I stopped a couple of stairs from the bottom. "Hey man," I said hopefully.

Nate had been staring at the TV, watching one of the other playoff-chasing games in progress. He looked over at me, gave a wan smile, and looked down. "I wasn't sure if you were gonna come."

I had come flying in with high hopes... and a higher libido. His response took some of the wind out of my sails. "You ok bud?" Pause. "Are... we ok?"

He looked over at me defensively and said blandly, "What? No... everything's cool. C'mon in. Just watching the Braves."

There was a... weighty silence. I was starting to see he was not as cool as I hoped. "Look. Nate. This is the quietest we've ever been around each other. Seriously, are we good? I mean, last night was... um... a pretty big step. If you're freaking out..."

Nate bit back testily, "No. Like I said, it's cool."

I wandered into the room and sat down heavily next to him on the couch. "Are you mad we... did... that...?"

"Jesus, Will. Fine. No, I'm not mad... and obviously from the huge amount of cum we blew I think we can say we were both into it. Ok? It felt good. It's just... I don't think we should do it again, ok? I don't want to rain on your parade. I just don't think we can."

"Oh...kay," I said noncommittally. Pause.

Nate's words flew out in a rush. "Look, I'm not gay. I mean, that felt amazing. But I'm not gay. I've never been into guys. I've never done anything with guys. I love my wife. I'm sure you do too. I just don't want to wreck... things."

I can't say I wasn't disappointed. And while I thought he was being a pussy about it, I knew what he meant. I mean, I hadn't come up with a clear thought about any of this, myself. I didn't even know how to look at my wife normally right now.

But it irked me that my bud was so cavalierly brushing aside something that...ok, fuck it, if I'm being honest, was a fucking amazing experience that we both clearly were into. Did he think he was the only one thrown for a loop? I admit that at that moment I wasn't bringing my best self to the table as I pushed ahead.

"Ok, Nate... this is not us being 'cool' about things." I reached out and put my hand on his shoulder, a little less warmly than I should have. "Look, why don't we..."

Nate forcefully thew off my hand, got up and stormed over to the bar. Pissed, I marched over there myself, grumbling, "Nate, you're being asshole. What the Hell's the..."

Nate whipped around, crossed the distance between us, raised his hands and slammed them into my chest, sending me reeling. "I'm being an asshole? Why don't you just leave it alone? You know what? Fuck you!" Before I could regain my balance he slammed me again, almost sending me sprawling back toward the couch. There was real fire in his eyes, and his cheeks were starting to flush. He reared up, and for a second, I thought he was going to haul off and deck me.

I was fucking pissed... no one was gonna push me around like that. Instinct kicked in. I crouched down low and rushed him, sending us barreling into the bar stools. The next few minutes were a blur. We were tangled up among the fallen chairs, trying to get at each other. I tried to pin him down, but the motherfucker was strong. He twisted and tried to land a punch, but I spun out and ended up catching him in the face with my elbow. He rolled away and got into a crouch, and roughly ran his hand across his nose and mouth, instinctively looking for blood. Seeing none, he turned back towards me, with eyes flashing lightning. In a split-second, we were wrapped up again, trying to gain leverage and take the other down.

He was strong. But so was I.

Friendship was gone. I was acting on pure threat response, ginned up by adrenaline and testosterone. We struggled and twisted, and tried to get a good shot the other, but we were evenly matched. Finally, I somewhat threw him off balance and was able to take him down. Hard. But he was way too fast, and came at me again, pulling me down with him. I kicked out heavily against him, sending him smashing into the coffee table. A part of my mind was struck by the utter ridiculousness of all of this... that was the same coffee table we had smashed into last night when we were making out.

To my surprise, Nate was able to turn the tables on me. He lunged at me, and before I knew it he had pinned me down, his weight heavily against me. I couldn't wriggle free. Fuck. He had me.

Nate's face was inches from mine, with sweat dripping from his nose, temples, and chin. Flushed. His eyes were shining in fury, and both of us were panting. I thought he was going to fucking smash my face in.

But he didn't.

We just sat there. Panting. Sweating. Fuming. Staring. Finally, I spat out at him, "What the fuck is wrong with you? I'm your fucking best friend!"

It was curious. The fury in Nate's eyes didn't change a whit. But... something in them did change. His hand came free and... wrapped around my jaw, his thumb stroking my stubble. And suddenly, his lips locked with mine. His fiery breath filling my mouth. And he was kissing me. I couldn't even react. He pulled his head back, and whisper-growled, "You know what? Fuck you, you fucker." And his lips slammed into mine again.

And suddenly we were both swept up in a different kind of firestorm.

He wasn't forcing himself on me. He wasn't struggling for dominance. It wasn't punishment. In fact, as soon as our lips locked, he released me altogether, and his other hand suddenly started raking through my hair. His kiss wasn't... well, hard... but rather... strong. Almost desperate. Pleading. But then there was... so much more to it.

And for a second, my body melted with his. I likewise reached up and grabbed his face, my palm against his cheekbone and my fingers running through his hair. Pressed against me like that, I suddenly realized my buddy was rock hard. And now, so was I. The fire of rage inside me subtlety changed color, becoming the fire of hunger.

There were fireworks going off in my head, and my whole body shivered in anticipation.

It was all over in moments. Nate pulled back, panting. We were both panting. He looked... almost sheepishly at me for a moment. His forehead came to rest on mine. He whispered, fiercely. "I... I was thinking about you all day." Pause. "I just..."

My guy instincts took over. Stimulus-response. Whatever he was going to say didn't mean shit. Whatever the fight was about didn't mean shit. We were both hard as steel and horny as fuck for each other.

That is what mattered.

I lunged back at him, cutting him off in mid-sentence as I rammed my tongue half-way down his throat. He fell backwards and I was on top of him, mauling him with a kiss that would have left bruises on a woman. Our hands were everywhere, all but clawing at each other as we grappled. He once again rolled on top of me, then pulled his mouth from mine to go after my neck. The shock of his stubble against my skin forced me to gasp. After scratching me in a masculine scour, he dragged his lips against my skin. The shock of the two sensations, the prickly and the satin-smooth wetness, felt otherworldly. I let out a long, grunting growl.

My hands continued to range across him, almost with minds of their own. I realized I had slid them underneath his T-shit, and as I started sliding them up against his hairy torso, he reached down and wrenched the shirt over his head, clumsily.

God he was fucking hot.

With all the activity, he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, that made his chest hair... dazzle. His nipples were large and heavy, nestled behind his fur. God. The raw, masculine power of him... it was one part Greek god, three parts lumberjack.

But there was no time to sit and admire my bud. I needed something else. I went at him with a I'm-not-taking-no-for-an-answer look in my eyes. I grabbed his torso and hauled him up, slapping a kiss across his face as I did so. He looked at me quizzically, but didn't resist when I essentially threw him down so he was sitting on the couch. I forcefully pried his legs apart and went for the fly of his shorts. "I've been thinking about that rock-hard dick all day. And I'm gonna fucking have it. I owe you for yesterday."

Nate's face brightened as I wrenched his fly open, then roughly pulled down his shorts and underwear and threw them aside. I think his dick twitched in anticipation. It was... fucking awesome. I swear it was eight inches when it was fully angry. Sleek and sharp as an arrow, with a flared mushroom head... which was already slimy with precum. The base was lost in a thicket of man hair, with a couple of equally hairy, egg-size balls.

I looked up with admiration, and we smiled--or more accurately, leered--at each other. "Fuck, dude. That's some monster meat you're packing."

"Glad you approve. Yours qualifies as a weapon of mass destruction, too!"

I leaned in, and caught his scent. Rich and heavy from a long day, his obvious excitement, and our earlier exertions.

FFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK.

His man-musk nearly broke my mind. It was the unfiltered smell of sex. Of manhood. Of raw power. Fuck. I think we've been conditioned to think of ball-sweat as the worst thing in the world. Maybe that's just our wives and girlfriends' hang-up. My own male body instinctively recognized this scent, knew all the messages his body was sending. I swear my dick grew three more inches.

In a state somewhere between hormonal daze and raw sexual hunger, I attacked his cockhead, swallowing it hard... and sucking for all I was worth.

And Nate responded. "Ohhhhhhhh GWAWD!" His head flew back and his back arched. Reveling in the feeling of raw sexual pleasure. I went to town on him, franticly lapping up his precum in sharp savage movements of my tongue. I then ran my tongue obscenely around the edge of his cockhead, while sucking him down. My hands instinctively went to his torso, and I started massaging him; his hands mirrored, mine... grabbing me and massaging my head and shoulders.

We were in this together.

I sucked hard, bobbing up and down, up and down, rolling my tongue all over him. Faster and faster, sucking him the way only a guy could suck him. Faster, and faster again. His whole body writhed underneath me, and his sounds and passed out of human speech to become animal howls. I was so into it, I thought about doing something amazing... deep throating him to his base. I took a breath and went for it, sucking as hard as I could.

With this being my first time, I didn't get very far before I gagged, and instinctively spat his cock out. "Easy man," Nate reassured, with a gentle rustle of my hair. He went on with a smirk: "You're fucking incredible. But you gotta work up to a big dick like mine!"

I gripped him hard, drawing out a gasp. "Another word like that, fuckerhead, and you're getting teeth!" He barked out a laugh.

I want back to his cock, but tried something different. With a long, lurid slurp, I ran my tongue down the length of his shaft all the way to his hairy balls. And there, I dug in for a wet, slobbery wallow. Fuck! The scent was driving me crazy, but so was the taste... tangy with the salt of sweat. I started mouthing each one in turn, sucking him in, teasing him with my tongue and then rolling to the other. Nate's head swung wildly. He growled out, "Oh fuck YEAH! She NEVER goes after my balls!"

I mentally shook my head... what is that about women? My wife hates balls, thinking they are the stupidest things ever. And hairy balls are the worst of all. They just have no fucking idea...

I worked his boys over again and again, with my hand stroking his rock-hard cock just to keep him honest. But I needed some more cock time. I Switched over, sucking my way up to his cockhead again, then sucking him down as I used my fingers to massage his nut sack. His words had dissolved back into soundless rumbles. He roughly massaged my shoulders with one hand, and ran his other hand through his sweaty hair.

Fuck he was hot.

Between the smell, taste, and feel of him, I was starting to lose my mind. I wrapped my lips around his cockhead, sucking as hard as I could, and started mouth fucking him. Nate perked up, his growls rising in intensity and pitch. I grabbed his shaft, and started fisting him hard, matching my mouth and hand to run the length of him. His hands slammed down, almost as if he was trying to lift himself off the couch, and started barking out obscenities. I was in overdrive. I went down hard on him again and again... faster and faster and fasterfasteterfasterfasterfaster...