BALLS - CHAPTER THREE By Stephen Nikolai
See warnings on previous chapters.
For David. Still.
After that, I took it easy the rest of the winter, screwing around a lot but not getting into any bondage scenes. And I made a decision: I was tired of messing around in the minor leagues. At age 26, if I wasn't heading for the majors, it was time to get on with my life. One more year in baseball and out. Best decision I ever made.
For one thing, I decided not to toady to their rules. I got my ears pierced, something I'd been wanting to do since my teens, and kept a goatee when I headed for spring training in Florida. The team executives didn't say a word, but I knew I wasn't making an impression on my new bosses. They informed me that I'd be at Double A this year in Mobile, Alabama, and that I was being converted to long relief, what they call a middle man.
A hot summer in a redneck town, that would make a fitting end for my baseball career, I thought as the team bus left the camp in Jupiter, Florida, to drive us to Mobile so we could find apartments and get settled. The manager of the Mobile Bears was a handsome ex-Dodger named Jack Rose who wore a thick blond mustache and was big on physical contact, putting his arm around your shoulders no matter what you were doing, squeezing your shoulder, touching your arm. I wondered if he might be interested in me till I saw him doing it to every other man in camp. Either he's been in therapy, I thought, or he's gay. Whichever it is, I wasn't going to mess with him.
Most guys in the minors are very young, very inexperienced, and very straight. As you may have noticed so far, I like my men older and wiser than me. None of my teammates did anything for my libido. Then they signed a Cuban defector named Juan Santangelo. Juan walked into the clubhouse with a swagger, but he turned out to be a sweet 20-year-old with a big heart and an amazing body, smooth and hugely muscled and slender in all the right places. He had thick wavy brown hair and a neat mustache, and the biggest smile I'd ever seen. I just wanted to leap into his arms and stay there.
Juan was affectionate, to say the least. He hugged guys he was being introduced to. Even in the showers, he was totally un-self-consious, walking around naked, even walking into Jack's office totally nude. His English wasn't very good, and since I'd had a little Spanish in school I got assigned as his roommate. Great, I thought, I'll be stuck staring at this guy all summer and wishing I could have him, or better yet wishing he'd tie me up and fuck me silly.
But he turned out to be a great roommate. He could cook, which saved us a lot of money, and he listened to my stories about growing up in the U.S. while sharing his own tales of being poor and struggling in Cuba. For the first time, I'd met someone in baseball I really liked; I could even imagine telling him I was gay. Juan liked to horse around too, and when he found out I was ticklish I was in deep trouble; he would grab me around the waist and start tickling me with one hand while holding me against him with the other. Sometimes I got hard while he was holding on to me, but I don't think he ever noticed.
Juan was a star on the field too, hitting lots of big home runs and leading the league in almost everything. I started to worry that he'd be sent up to Triple A or the majors before the season was out, and I'd miss him if that happened. But the big club had solid left fielders ahead of Juan, so he'd be with us for the year.
About six weeks into the season, we were on a road trip in Knoxville, Tennessee, staying in a cheesy motel room that was so small that the two double beds almost touched. I was just about falling asleep after our 11-hour bus ride when Juan reached over and started tickling my side. I said "Stop it," first in English and then in Spanish, but he didn't relent. He had a goofy but demonic grin on his face. When I tried to move away, he kept after me, climbing on top of me, holding my arms above my head with one of his massive hands and using the other to tickle up and down my sides and into my armpits.
Finally, I said, "Get off me!" with enough vehemence that he obeyed. It wasn't that I minded him tickling me. The problem was that I was enjoying it so much I was afraid I was going to come, and since I was wearing nothing but a pair of briefs, he'd probably notice. And that would have ended our friendship, not to mention my career.
Juan got off me, but he looked hurt, like a little boy who'd been reprimanded and didn't understand why. I went to the bathroom to make sure my hard-on had gone down, then came back into the motel room. He had gotten back into his own bed and was curled up with his back to me. "Juan? I just had to pee, that's all."
"I'm sorry."
"Juan, you weren't doing anything bad, I promise. I just really had to pee and I didn't want to wet the bed." I went over and sat on his bed, bouncing it till he sat up. I hugged him hard, the way he liked to be hugged, and then crawled into my own bed.
A few minutes later, he was back. "So now you pissed, I can tickle?"
I was bone tired, but I wasn't going to turn down physical contact with Juan. "Sure, what the hell."
He surprised me by tweaking my nipples first, then running his fingers down my sides. I responded with an embarrassingly high giggle, then did my best to get his hands off me. Juan laughed, pretending to pull a hair out of my chest. I fought back in earnest now, desperate to get this behemoth off me. Eventually I ended up in the usual position, flat on my face, my hands pulled behind my back, Juan kneeling on my legs, with my ticklish sides exposed for his free hand. He reached down to the floor, still keeping me under control, and grabbed one of his long baseball socks. "Now I will have you for tickling!" he said as evilly as he could, tying my hands behind me with the long sock.
What the fuck was this? Was he into bondage, or had he figured out that I was, or what? He kept kneeling on me, using both hands to tickle me up and down my sides, then rolling me over onto my back. I was bulging by now, and breathing hard, and Juan started tickling me again, but then he and I looked at each other, deeply into each other's eyes, and something happened. All of a sudden it wasn't funny any more. I thought, could he really be into this too? But before I could say anything, Juan politely climbed off my bed, untied my hands, and went to his own side. "Buenas noches, Andrew," he said before turning off the light.
I lay there all night trying to figure things out. Did I dare take a chance on him? Juan seemed like a great guy, someone who'd be a friend no matter what, but baseball is such a homophobic place that I'd never taken this chance before. Then again, nobody'd ever spent a whole night tickling me half-naked before, either.
I got up at eight, dressed as quickly as I could, and walked across the motel parking lot. There was a Wal-Mart across the street, and they were open. I went inside, took a deep breath, then plunged into the crowded aisles. I bought a hundred feet of rope and four bandanas. I started to leave, then remembered and bought a box of condoms as well. The teenager at the checkout stand stared at me, a big city guy with a Chicago accent and pierced ears, standing there buying rope and gags and condoms. I paid for the stuff, smiled brightly, then walked back over to the motel, hoping no one else on the team was up yet either. (Likely not; our game wasn't till seven, and we weren't due at the Knoxville ballpark till four.)
When I unlocked the motel room door, Juan was awake and sitting up in his bed. He smiled when he saw me. "Good morning, Andrew."
"Good morning, Juan."
"Where were you so early? I hear you go but I do not understand."
"Just went to get some stuff over at Wal-Mart. Go back to sleep."
"No, I'm awake. What did you get?"
I hadn't planned on doing this so early, but since he was up and I was standing there with a bag full of bondage equipment in my hand, I had no choice. "Well, since we had such a good time last night, I got something for you."
"I am sorry about last night, Andrew."
"No, don't be. It was great." I sat on his bed and gave him another hug. "I think we both wanted to do something, so I got us supplies."
I handed him the bag and waited for his reaction. He looked inside, pulling out first the rope, then the bandanas, then the condoms. Juan smiled bigger than I'd ever seen him smile, then kissed me on the cheek. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes," I said, breathlessly. "I've never done it with a teammate before."
Juan set the bag down and pulled me close to him. "In Cuba, I had friends I played with, and they liked to be tickled like you. And if I tied them, they would let me have sex. But then they would get confused, like I had raped them or something like that. It was confusing. And I knew if people found out I would be in trouble."
"Well, you'd be in trouble here, too, Juan. They don't allow homos in the major leagues."
"True. But in Cuba I could have gone to jail."
Wow. I'd never known that. Juan was yawning, and I felt comfortable in his arms, so we just went back to sleep for a while. When we woke up, around eleven, I reached over and kissed him, not on the cheek, but fully, like a true lover, and he responded. We made out for a while, his hands ranging all over my body, my arms trying to encircle his huge muscles. Before long we were both naked, and he asked, "May I tie you up now?"
"Juan, you don't have to ask. Just do it."
He reached down for the bag of supplies, and began by tying my hands behind me. His knots were secure but not rough, and I immediately went from half-hard to rock hard. Juan smiled when he came back around to face me. He stroked my cock with one hand while stroking his own impressive dick with the other. Then he tied my arms to my sides with more rope and led me to my bed, where he sat me up against the headboard and tied my knees and ankles together. I was a little confused, since this didn't seem like a great position for tickling; my sides and armpits were hidden from his fingers. But I let him do what he wanted. He finished by taking one of the bandanas, folding it up, and pushing it into my waiting mouth, then tying another one around my head to hold it in place.
Then he sat on the bed next to me and said, "Andrew, you are so wonderful to let me do this. I think I will just have fun with your big American feet today." And he started tickling the bottoms of my feet, stroking gently, then taking his hands away, then gently brushing me with his fingertips, never putting his hands anywhere but the soles of my feet. I was in ecstasy, totally turned on, trying to escape his tickling but unable to move. My cock was hard and gushing precum as I growled into my gag. Juan looked up at me and smiled. "You like this?"
"Fuck you," I tried to say, but of course nothing much came out of my mouth.
He rolled me onto my side now, as if getting ready to fuck me, but instead he untied my arms and wrists and then lay me on my back. He held my hands in a tight grip, smiled again, and then tied them together in front of me, a little tighter than before. He pulled my wrists over my head and tied them to one of the legs of the bed, since there was nothing on the headboard to tie me to. He added some rope to my ankles, stretched me across the bed diagonally, and tied the extra rope to another bed leg. "Now I'm going to have more fun with you," he said.
Juan's fingers danced up and down my sides, and I could only squirm in my bonds. He was so agile on the field, and he was gifted here in bed too. My cock was leaking, and when I came close to coming he'd stop and let me rest. We maintained eye contact throughout, his big brown eyes full of mischief, his smile big as all outdoors, but devilish too. Finally, I groaned; we'd been at it for a long time and I couldn't take any more. Juan gave my armpits one last long stroke, then played with my feet a little more. I arched my back, ready to shoot my load, and he stroked my cock firmly, teasing me with those great fingers of his, and I shot all over the both of us, a huge load of cum.
Juan undid my gag and kissed me passionately, wrapping his big arms around me and lying on top of me. He straddled me, kneeling, and stroked his cock on top of my bound body, rubbing it in my chest hair and nuzzling the tip of it against my goatee, finally bringing himself off and shooting his load upwards so it landed on his chest (and not in my mouth). He wiped himself off with his finger and ate his load, smiling all the time.
"Juan," I said softly, "you're amazing."
"You too, my friend," he said in Spanish, kissing me again.
"Fuck me?" I asked.
He untied me and said, "You fuck me first." We spent the rest of the afternoon fucking each other as long and as hard as possible, no rope necessary. As we hurried to get dressed, I realized that I was falling head over heels in love with Juan, and I thought maybe he felt the same way about me.
We didn't talk much on the bus, and we avoided each other at the ballpark. I was terrified people might figure there was something going on between us. Juan ran around hugging everyone with his usual exuberance. I wasn't worried for myself, hell, I was ready to quit baseball already. But he was so talented a ballplayer that I knew he was going to make the major leagues, as long as no one knew he was gay.
Jack, our manager, came over to me as I was pulling on my uniform. "You okay tonight, Andrew?"
"Yeah, just tired. Didn't sleep much."
"Anything you need to talk about?" Jack put an arm around my shoulder. If he were a little younger, he'd have been just my type, but all my thoughts were with Juan now. "We can go in my office if you need."
"Nah."
"I saw you get up this morning and go walking. You don't usually wander around at six a.m."
Shit! He'd seen me go to Wal-Mart? What else did he know? Had Juan and I closed the curtains in our motel room? "Couldn't sleep, that's all. I'm not doing so well. I'm thinking, um, about not pitching any more."
"We'll have to talk about that after the game, all right?"
No! I wanted to say. After the game Juan and I were planning more bondage adventures. But instead I just nodded and hoped Jack would forget about talking to me. All through the game I sat in the bullpen tugging on my earrings and looking at my wrists to see if I had any noticeable marks. I was sure everyone on the team could tell what I'd been up to. Juan seemed unaffected by what we'd done; he went 3 for 5 with two home runs. I pitched miserably and gave up four runs in the bottom of the seventh inning, and we lost 11 to 5.
After the game, I didn't bother to shower, just changing my clothes and hopping on the bus before Jack could find me. Juan sat across the aisle from me and gave me a big sexy smile, but we didn't say a word all the way back to the motel. Some of the guys were going to the bar next door, but we begged off and headed for our room. The second we were inside, Juan started kissing me. "I wanted you all night," he said. "I wanted to have you right there in the shower room!"
"Me too. Tie me up good, Juan, please?"
He smiled and undressed me, then kissed me again. He tied my hands and feet, then pushed me down on the bed. (I looked up to see if the curtains were closed, and they were.) He made sure to lock the motel room door, then took three of the bandanas and stuffed them into my mouth, stretching my cheeks wide. He tied them in place with the fourth bandana. I moaned into the gag as loud as I could, producing only a stifled "Mmmmmmph!"
Juan laughed at that and said, "I like that sound, Andrew." So I moaned some more while he tied me tighter, pulling me into a strong and effective hogtie, so tight that I could sense my feet almost touching the back of my head. He sat on the other bed and just watched me wriggle and moan inside the ropes. For such a young man, Juan knew that I needed to explore, to test the limits of the bonds, to get to that place called "flying" where you stop feeling restrained but instead feel released by being tied up. When I stopped moving and looked him in the eye, he knew I was ready.
He began gently tickling my feet, with me gasping and moaning into the gag. I couldn't flinch, which made the tickling even more intense, which got me harder and harder. Soon I was leaking precum and grunting loudly. Juan took his hands away and stroked my hair. "Slow down, Andrew," he murmured. "We have so far to go together."
He released the hogtie and lay me on my back, then put me into a spread eagle. He then blindfolded me and began an all-out assault on my senses, seeming to attack every vulnerable part of my body at once: my sides, my armpits, my knee pits (and who knew the knee pits were ticklish?), my toes, my feet. Every inch of me was on fire, and every inch of me tensed when he touched me and tensed again when he moved his hands. Oh, he was good, too good. Every time my cock started to spasm, he stopped completely and moved away, but I could still feel his breath on me. Finally he allowed me to cum again, and I shot all over the place; when he removed the blindfold he turned it to show me that I'd shot cum right into my eyes!
He undid the gag, and I breathed in deep. I longed to be untied so that I could embrace him and kiss him deeply. Juan knew this, but he hadn't had a turn yet. "Fuck me, Juan," I moaned.
"I don't want to fuck you. I want to make love to you."
"Yes!" I practically screamed, not caring how thin the walls of the motel room were. Hell, I didn't care who knew. "I want you so much."
"Me too," he said, stretching out on top of me and kissing me for what seemed like hours. It was hot and sticky in that Southern summer night, but I didn't care. All I knew was Juan's touch. Finally he knelt between my legs and loosened the ropes on my feet so that he could lift me up to fuck me. "I can't believe this," he said. "All this way I came to play baseball and I found you."
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. "I love you," I whispered.
"I love you, too."
"Make love to me, Juan."
He smiled and began fucking my brains out. I don't remember the rest of it. I think I passed out from sheer joy.