DISCLAIMER/WARNING: This fictional story depicts homosexual acts between two men in explicit detail with numerous curse words. If reading this is illegal in your country, state, or community, stop. This is completely fictional and fantastical and does not mean to imply anything about the actual thoughts and habits of the persons depicted herein.
CREDE AND A.J. IN THE MIDDLE (c) 2005 "makatiboy". All rights not licensed to Nifty Archive reserved.
Joe Crede staggered into his hotel room and fell over the bed.
"... unngh," he said. His hand flexed around the champagne bottle he had brought all the way back from the ballpark. He looked up, saw the lights of Anaheim gleaming through the curtains of the window, and said, "I'm going ta Disneyland!"
A chuckle from the doorway. "Not so fast, sport." AJ Pierzynski stood there. "Party's still going on in Duque's room."
"Fuck it," said Crede into the coverlet. He took a swig of stale champagne.
Pierzynski laughed. "Sounds like you need a girl, kiddo," he said. "They got those in Duque's room too."
Crede raised his head at that, considered, and then said, "I'm too lazy. Can't I just get blown right here?"
Another chuckle. Then he heard the door close and lock. "That can be arranged," Pierzynski said.
Joe turned over onto his back. "AJ?" he said confusedly, but all he saw in the dim light from the city was his teammate's body as Pierzynki began to strip. Off came the shirt. Down came the shorts. Then followed the jock, and Crede was staring at a hard and naked Pierzynski with a cruel smirk on his face.
Crede blinked. "Uh, dude..." he said, as Pierzynski grabbed him by the knees and pulled him to the edge of the bed. "Dude, what're you ..." With a sharp jerk, Pierzynski broke the zipper of Crede's fly. "Hey..." Without warning, Pierzynski stood, put his leg up on the edge of the bed, grabbed the back of Crede's head, and before he knew it, Joe had a mouthful of cock.
"Nnnggrrh!" But Pierzynski was too strong. He had Crede by the back of the head and his knee was right up against Joe's crotch, and goddamn but his other hand was in Crede's pants and was touching him, touching him. And Crede was too drunk to fight.
But not too drunk not to know what was happening. Fuck, AJ was raping him. Why wasn't he fighting him off? He had a fucking COCK in his mouth, and AJ was going back and forth, fucking his lips, and he was just TAKING it. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was married, for crying out loud! And a father!
And why was he getting hard? He was, he was throwing a huge bone in AJ's hand. And he heard himself moan and actually start sucking on AJ's fucking shaft, and the fucker was huge, man, bigger than him.
"Atta boy," he heard Pierzynski sneer softly. "I knew you'd suck it once you got a taste of it. I've wanted to do this to you all season, just waited for the right time. Now I want you and me to go into the World Series and hear the whole fucking city of Chicago cheering for their star third baseman and know their golden boy sucked my prick and took my sperm up his ass."
Crede's eyes widened and he managed to pull away for just a second and stare at Pierzynski. "AJ ... aw, fuck, man ... don't fuck me, please!"
But the catcher only sniggered and smirked. He grabbed a fistful of Crede's curly hair and used it to yank Joe's head back hard. Then he placed his face on Crede's and shoved his tongue deep in the younger man's mouth, and all Joe could do was swallow his protest.
Then Pierzynski pulled away. Crede blinked. He was still in his street clothes, his zipper torn and his cock jerking at its full seven inches and leaking onto his clothes. Pierzynski was naked, still smiling, his eyes narrow, slowly jerking his ten-inch man-raper that Joe realized was wet with his spit.
"Maybe I should go," said AJ, yanking at his prick in front of Crede. "You're probably pooped." He bent down to pick up his clothes, but didn't put them on, and went to open the door.
"Wait!"
The smirk sneaked its way up the catcher's cruel face. He paused, the door slightly ajar, voices coming down the hall.
"'sup, kiddo?" he said, turning and glancing at Crede.
Poor Joe swallowed. He closed his eyes and knew he was crossing a major threshold. But the pounding of his heart told him he had to do this. He couldn't say no.
He pulled off his shirt and shoved off his pants faster than he'd ever done before, so he was naked on the bed. Then he got off the bed and onto his knees. His hand jerked his cock automatically. He mumbled his reply.
Pierzynski watched him. "Say it louder, Joe."
Crede shut his eyes tight and said it again through gritted teeth.
"C'mon, bro, you're a man, say it like a man!"
"FUCK ME AJ!" Crede bellowed, and man it was almost like he was gonna cry, or cum, or both. "Please," he added.
The door closed. The light and the voices faded. In the darkness lit by the amusement park lights far outside, Pierzynski returned to the kneeling young man before him and placed his cockhead against the kid's bewhiskered chin.
"Get it nice and wet," he whispered. "It's going in your ass next," and a single tear leaked out of Joe Crede's eye as he took the raging cock back into his mouth.
Slap, slap, slap. AJ's balls were slapping against Joe's ass. How long had they been at this? To Crede it felt like forever: AJ Pierzynski, ramming his asshole full of cock, fucking the shit out of him. He was a bitch. Joe had already cum; his jizz was all over the floor, and AJ had made him scoop it up and eat it and smear it on his own face, and he had. And still Pierzynski was raping him.
" ... why ...?"
"Say what, kiddo?"
Crede swallowed. He tasted his own cum. It coated his throat, made it scratchy. "Why ..." he tried again, "me, dude? Why did you do this to me?"
"Why? Cuz you're cute, that's why!" said Pierzynski with a laugh. He bent low over Joe's back and tenderly tucked a lock of Crede's lank, sweaty hair behind the younger man's ear and whispered, "Because you came in a chubby, pasty dork and turned into a pinup pretty boy in front of our eyes. Because you're a fucking stud, a college star, an All-Star. Because you've got teenage girls screaming your fucking name and little boys wanting to grow up to be just like you. Because you're a damn good ballplayer. And because I knew you'd let me."
Well, Joe couldn't argue with that. He'd had plenty of chances to stop this rape, or seduction, or whatever it was; but he hadn't. He'd let it happen. Fuck, he had cum harder than he could ever recall. And fuck but he actually loved this feeling, Pierzynski's monster Polish sausage, his ten-inch raping tool, doing its job on Joe's so-recently-virgin guts. It had hurt like hell going in, and he had screamed into AJ's hard, callused hand; tears had come out, he'd actually started bawling like a kid or a little girl, as the powerfuck started. And now he was still acting like a girl, but not an innocent; a whore, a skank, a well-fucked cockslut. He whimpered as AJ changed positions and angles and locations, treating poor Joe's innocent asshole like a strike zone he wanted to widen, and using every slider, sinker, forker, curve and change he could, up and in, low and out, and the hard straight heater, bam, bam, bam, strike three and yerrrOUT! Out? No kidding! Joe doubted he'd ever really be straight again after this. His "strike zone" was by now so generous Greg Maddux could pitch a no-hitter in it.
"I did this in Minnesota, you know?" Pierzynski was saying. "Guess who I fucked. Guess."
"... I dunno, man, I dunno... aah ... oh, fuck, yes, oh God what the fuck you done to me, you've fucking turned me out ..."
"Man that gets me off," said Pierzynski ruthlessly grinning. "Take a hot stud and make him into my bitch. Even only once, it's enough. Mientkiewicz will still get on his knees and blow me if I ask him."
Crede's eyes widened. Doug Mientkiewicz?
"And on the Giants," Pierzynski boasted, "you know who I made my bitch there?"
"... Barry Bonds?"
Pierzynski snorted and roared. "Fuck no! I'm not getting any of that prima donna juice on my piece! Give you a hint. He's worth a hundred dollars."
Joe's eyes widened again. "Tomko? You fucked Tomko?"
"I fucked him UP, totally!" Pierzynski said with relish. "He's so sensitive, so artistic, wants to be so good at everything. Fuck, he pulls that shit on me, calls me a cancer? I fucked him. I fucked him good, and literally. And you know what? Once I did it, he couldn't get enough. He begged for my dick, I played him like a fiddle. I even fucked him in front of his wife." AJ's eyes went glassy as he continued pistoning in and out of poor Crede's now-sloppy hole. "Turned her on so much I fucked her, too. And there he was, watching me have his woman, his dick so hard and wishing it wasn't her pussy I was fucking, but his." His voice grew distant, even as he grabbed Joe's hips and pulled the kid up tighter against his and began slamfucking Crede like a cheap gutter whore. "They licked my dick together. Brett and his wife. I made him fuck her cunt while I fucked his ass. Fuck ..." AJ whispered. "What about you, kid? You and yours?"
Crede shut his eyes. He turned his face to see the window. The light outside gleamed on his wedding band as he got fucked. "You're evil, AJ," he said.
"Me? Nah... come on, I was ... an altar boy ..." And Pierzynski blew his load, tons of sperm soaking poor young Joe's insides.
Joe sighed. "Me too," he said, and he blew his load too, his second that night.
Past midnight, Crede woke. Pierzynski was coming from the bathroom.
"Hey," said the catcher in a friendly fashion. "Sorry I woke ya."
Joe rubbed his eyes. "No prob." He yawned. "I thought you left."
"Me?" AJ shook his head. He crawled back into bed and spooned up behind Crede. His dick was semi-hard and he tucked it in Crede's crack. "Why would I ever want to leave?"
Joe smiled. "Asshole."
Pierzynski grinned. "I know." He kissed Joe on the cheek. "By the way, I texted Rowand, and he's coming over to have a piece of your ass too."
Oh man! thought Crede, as somebody knocked.
THE END. maybe.
For inspiration: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v435/chipofdale/crede_rowand_pierzynski.jpg