It was the day before John was shipping out to the Marines and his 19th birthday. His dad asked him over breakfast what he wanted to do before he left and started that next phase of his life.
"Well... don't laugh by I always wanted to but never hit a home run." Back when he was younger, baseball was the thing, but then other things came along. He did alright but never got up to that level.
So they headed off to the batting cages. It wasn't too crowded. It wasn't too hot. It wasn't about to rain. The perfect day for it.
"If you hit it just right there, the radar gun sets off a big alarm and a sign that says Home Run, and the place lights up."
"Well okay son, let's make it happen." His dad tried to help him in the backyard back in the day. He'd stand behind him and push through that swing. He would change into these old gym class shorts and jog around the fence with the boy. The first time he really walloped one, they hugged and screamed and celebrated.
As John stepped through the gate, his dad gave him that old pat on the rear end, for some reason only ever happened around baseball. John was trying. After a bit, he loosened up and made contact, but he wanted to hit the moon down.
It just so happened that his coach from little league was there that afternoon. He was pretty young when John was playing, so the coach was still coaching and active and in shape. He was wearing a team jacket and baseball pants and even cleats.
He said hello to John's dad and got the big plan to hit a big one on his last day in town. "Keep your head down!" he instructed.
"Why don't you come in here and show him?" his dad asked, so the coach stepped in and stood behind him and guided his swing.
"It's all in the hips, swivel," he put his hands on the young man's hips and started rolling him around. John felt the coach's arms around him, and he couldn't tell if that was a cup he felt against him. And of course, he also gave John's butt a pat. Then they left John alone to bat.
"Point your dick at the ball when you hit it!" the coach yelled. He never gave any advice like that back in the day. John laughed and loosened up a little more.
John tried pointing his dick forward and up as the baseballs shot out at him. He held the bat up from his crotch as a joke, and his dad and coach laughed. John's jacket was getting in the way, and he was getting warmer in the sun.
"It's not the jacket," his dad said. "It's those jeans." He apparently had some opinions from back when he played softball and guys would wear jeans. They were either too loose and low or too high and tight. They didn't move when you run either.
He turned to the coach and pointed. He said that there's a reason why baseball uniform pants are like they are. John said that maybe he should have worn some sweatpants instead or some shorts, instead of wearing those jeans.
"Just take 'em off!" his dad said. The coach quickly agreed. Join looked around. "You want to get that home run, don't you?"
He was wearing boxers, and they basically just looked like shorts, maybe a little short and a little thin if the sunlight hit them at the right angle.
He hit even worse. "I feel really self-conscious like this!"
His dad said, "there's nobody around, just us guys." Some batting cages had parties and an arcade, tons of people, but not this one. Just us guys.
Coach said, "Here, we'll take ours off too" and kicked his cleats off. John's dad was a little surprised but easily convinced. When John saw them both leaning against the fence with their bare knees under just underwear, mostly covered by the bottoms of their shirts, he loosened up again.
It was pretty silly, and a couple guys that the coach knew came over and saw and joked about it, but it was working. John hit one after another. All over the place but hits.
He felt his dick and balls flop around with each swing, but no need to adjust anything. They were loose.
A guy who used to work with his dad recognized him and walked over. They chatted while the coach gave a lesson through the fence. Then there was 4 or 5 guys just standing around and watching and cheering him on. The owner came out and chatted with the coach.
"You feel weird, son, with everyone watching you without your pants on?"
John said, "No. I kind of like everyone watching."
His dad noticed how sweaty his armpits were and how John would lift his arms because of the slippery feeling and the damp fabric.
"Take your shirt off!" he instructed. John gave him that look that every embarrassed son has given his dad, but the coach and the other men were enjoying it all. "Here, let's all take our shirts off! It's hot!"
It wasn't uncommon for shirts to disappear on a hot day like this, but now John was batting in just his underwear, and his dad and coach were hanging on the chain link fence in just theirs too. When the owner, who was actually the coach's cousin too, unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the back of a bench, he undid his belt and unbuttoned his slacks and stripped them off too. And he was wearing just briefs.
John could hardly complain or act embarrassed. Some more guys started gathering to watch, and they talked about the situation and undressed a bit too. Not everyone was in just his underwear but nobody was fully dressed.
His dad went in and paid for more balls, and coach followed in to keep giving tips. "You're still leaning in too much, keep your back like this."
Manly hands sliding on John's shoulders and arms, then chest hair against his sweaty back. John twisted his hips and felt himself hardening and pointing, poking out.
Coach stood in front of John, facing him, and John watched as his coach adjusted. Under his underwear was the disconnected waistband of a jock strap, peeking out for a moment.
When coach and dad left, they all crowded around, leaning against each other. Coach wrapped his arm over his cousin, who was constantly adjusting how his tight white briefs held him. John noticed his father's body pushed up against the diamonds of the chain link fence, highlighting his body.
John took a big swing and cracked a hit. Everyone cheered, still waiting for that bullseye alarm and the perfect home run. Crack! Another cheer and another. John swiveled around, and his boner poked through his fly and stood out.
He stood there while they cheered and yelled and looked. His hardon bobbed up like a swinging bat
Everybody watched. He watched everyone looking. He flexed it and showed off. He swung again. He pulled on himself. He dug his heels in while he pointed out and up. He looked at his father and his coach and all these other guys.
He watched his coach take off his underwear, wave it around like a rally towel, and jump up and down. His bare ass was so big and flexed. It got some smacks and bounced. They were yelling. They were sweating. They rattled the metal fence.
After each hit, John egged them on, with the tip poking out of the fly in his boxers. He aimed his hard dick forward like coach said. He felt the flex each time and the buzz from making contact vibrate through his body. He remembered that weird tingling from years ago.
He looked back at them and their eyes glued to him. He twisted his whole body and reached his arms and bat forward in a perfect shape and pushed the speeding ball out like flicking a light switch, and it shot out right where it needed to go, and an alarm cracked the air and filled it.
John twisted back towards them and shot his load, hands free, white gobs flipped up and out like fireworks. They all jumped. Dicks popped out and got pressed against bouncing bodies. It was like a locker room after the World Series, all for one perfect practice and no points.
His dad and coach spilled through the celebration first and picked him up between them. He felt a hard cock against his ass through just the thin fabric of his boxers. He felt his wet tip slide against skin. His breath was squeezed out of lungs and he laughed and collapsed as claps came down on his back.
Everyone jumped in and filled the cage. John recognized a face in the crowd as it screamed and ripped his T-shirt open, nothing at all on under and then a dick flipping up with each jump. The owner climbed on the crowd to them in the center, and he was naked but wearing socks. Coach held him in his arms like Scooby-Doo. They got pressed against the fence, and John saw his dad's dick poke through a hole like he was fucking it. He shot jizz out while he and John watched. The celebration lasted what seemed like forever. Fucking and flipping and jumping and screaming.
Home Run!