Disclaimer: Do not continue reading if you are not 18 years old or you are offended by portrayals of male to male sex or the laws in your state or county forbid this type of material.
Copyright 2004 by the author. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.
Names, characters, locations and incidents are fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Master Bottoms
--------- Day Five -------------
If I thought Logan was finished with me, I was mistaken big way. After breakfast, the Admiral told me that Logan and Wilson were going to the Veterans Stadium and I was to go along. He told me to wear my uniform but put my jeans on over it, along with sneakers. Also get a Phillies jersey and cap from the supply room. I had to look like a normal fan as we went into the stadium. However, Logan owned a private sky booth and once inside that, I would strip down to my uniform, and be at his disposal. James would pick the three of us up at 1.
Number 9 was listening to all this, and when 35 was finished, 9 asked me who the Phillies was playing.
"The Giants."
"Who are the starting pitchers?"
"How the hell do I know?"
"I was Logan's slave top last year. I really lucked out. Kevin Millwood pitched a no-hitter. Wilson was mad as hell."
I couldn't understand what the fuck difference it made. In fact, since I was asked to be in uniform, I didn't think either I or they would be concentrating on the game much. Was I ever fuckin' wrong.
Of course for the trip into the stadium, I sat in back between the two members and they both played with my manhood. By the time we drove out of the clubhouse drive, my jeans were off. They fondled it, pinched it, and took turns sucking it. But they didn't ask me to fuck either of them the whole trip.
At the stadium, James pulled up to the celebrity entrance. I quickly got my jeans on and the three of us stepped out. Logan also wore a Phillies cap but Wilson wore one that said Giants. Apparently this was an ongoing rivalry they had. They were casually dressed, but much more stylishly than I in my old jeans. But no one seemed to pay too much attention to this odd threesome heading for the exclusive elevator. I even realized that my dog collar was plainly visible to all, but hell, all kinds of things are in style nowadays.
We got to the sky booth and Logan checked the fridge. it was well stocked - beer, champagne, and fresh fruit. There was also a well-stocked bar. The booth was spacious. A private bathroom with shower. A couch, a table, a TV set, as well as half a dozen chairs looking down on the field through one way glass. "OK, 37, strip," Logan ordered. I got down to my uniform, and both he and Wilson took their pants off. They both wore jockstraps - would you believe, team jockstraps in fact!
They studied their teams warming up on the field. I studied both their rear ends. Wilson was a lot tighter than Logan. Smaller buttocks, but very shapely nonetheless. His crack was a lot hairier. I wondered when I was going to be put to service.
"Hey, Dickhead, bring me a beer," called Wilson. I did so, but still no one seemed interested in my dick. I began to relax.
We stood and sang the national anthem along with everyone else, as patriotic as all those ass-covered fans in the stands below. Then the Giants took the field for the first inning. It was then that Logan explained things to me. Not exactly explained,' but gave me a little demonstration.' "Stand like this," he ordered. I copied his stance, my arms straight out on either side, middle fingers extended and my tongue sticking out. "Now listen carefully, Dickhead! I'm only going to explain this once."
"Yes, Sir."
He grabbed my left fuck finger and said simply, "Single. Got that?"
"Yes, Sir."
Then he grabbed my tongue and said, "Double." Then my right fuck finger. "Triple. Got that?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Good. Then what's this? He grabbed my dick and shook it hard.
"Home Run, Sir?"
Wilson chortled. "Quick learner, 37."
Logan smiled, released the vice grip on my dick and assumed his position, leaning on the rail with his ass protruding back through his Phillies jockstrap. Wilson sat down. I stood between them with my back to the window and Logan began jerking me off again. "OK, remember that. Now, Dickhead, get it hard. You're going to need it real soon."
"Maybe, not all that soon," laughed Wilson.
"You'll see," said Logan. "Remember last year."
"Don't remind me."
This conversation went completely over my head. All I knew was that Logan was making mince meat out of my cock but kept delaying the penetration. David Bell came up to the plate. He swung at the first pitch and missed, "Strike one," called Wilson.
"Yeah, fuck," said Logan.
Another pitch, another swing, another miss. "Strike two," giggled Wilson.
Another pitch, another swing, and this time the bat made contact. The ball went out past the shortstop. Bell was safe on first. "Oh, yeah, Single, 37!" Logan let go of my dick again, and turned so I could access his ass. Finally! I caught on. I pushed my `single' finger up his ass hole and began probing. But as soon as Hancock came up to the plate, Logan pulled off me, leaned on the rail again and resumed his masturbation of me. But when Hancock hit a grounder on his first swing, Logan whooped, "C'mon, we got a man on second now, Dickhead," and again released my dick. I knelt down and licked his ass, pushing my tongue deep into his hole.
After a couple more batters, I didn't need to be told. Every time a player advanced, I stuck something up Logan's ass. Finally, Bell came home and my cock began ramming Logan's love tunnel, fast and furious. But when a new player came on deck, my cock went back into Logan's left hand. It was kinda fun at first, but it was really fuckin tiresome. It was a real workout for me. I began to hope for more strikes. The three outs were long in coming, but when the sides retired, so did I. I was exhausted. Four hits, one run, no errors. I had cockfucked him only once but I had to keep it hard, never knowing who would make the next run. I understood now why 9 was asking who the pitcher was. But now I figured I could let it rest until the second inning. Again I was wrong.
When the Giants came to bat, Logan sat down and Wilson stood and prepared himself for action. Geoff Geary was on the mound and Logan reminded Wilson again about the no hitter the year before. But Wilson wasn't throwing in the towel. He manipulated my cock in anxious anticipation of that beautiful sound of ash striking leather. His hope was rewarded twice. Two hits. No one scored, but Wilson scored one fingerfuck and one rim job.
And on it went. Every hit meant another fuck of some kind. But Wilson was hungry for his home run. Then, in the bottom of the fourth, the Giants had a man on third and Cody Ransom hit a double, bringing Barry Bonds home. Wilson went wild. He jumped, gave Logan the finger, and shouted at me, "Now we get to see what your pecker can really do, Dickhead." He slammed me down on his chair and immediately straddled me, pulled his cheeks apart with his hands and sat down on top of me, impaling himself on my cock. "Fuck me, 37! Fuck me good and hard! Fuck me for the Giants. Fuck me for Bonds."
Wilson rode me like a bronco. It was an exuberant joyous fuck. I waited for a signal to send my spunk load right up his love chute, but then I saw Wilson was spouting cum himself. He stood up, wiped his jizz off on Logan's shirt, and nodded for me to stand up again. He bent over again and grabbed my dick. There was no rest for the slave top.
Through six innings. My poor cock worked harder here than it ever worked back at the club. By the seventh inning stretch, the Phillies had had 10 hits, and three runs, the Giants 8 hits, two runs. Logan got on the house phone and ordered some refreshments, rib eye steak and potatoes for three. There was a knock on the door and I was sent to open it. The waiter was totally non plussed seeing me in my uniform. Even when Wilson in his jock came over and threw him a fifty buck tip, he seemed to take it all in stride. "Will there be anything else?" he asked, and I swear I saw him adjust himself suggestively.
"No thanks, we're all set, my young man," said Logan. the three of us sat down at the table and ate our meal. I sat between them and both made sure my dick didn't get too relaxed. "Maybe we should have a centerpiece," Logan winked. "What do you think, Wilson?" Wilson laughed but it was time to begin play again.
We went a full nine innings because the Giants needed to get in their last licks. It didn't help though. The Phillies won, 4-2. My cock was exhausted, but I learned it had one more function to perform. Since Logan won the game, he was to be rewarded with one final fuck, this one to climax. It wasn't all that hard for me. After nine innings of uninterrupted coitus interruptus, my cock was ready to spill its guts. I blew a thick creamy load over Logan's jock framed ass.
"He's a hell of a fuck, Logan," Wilson said.
"I told you that." I was proud to hear that these guys had discussed my prowess.
All three of us got showered off, during which I got to rim both their baseball butts. We got dressed for our descent to the ground floor. As we left the sky booth, we passed our waiter in the hall. Logan pressed another twenty dollar bill into his hand and then put his hand down the front of the waiter's pants. "See you next time, Steve."
As soon as we were in the limo, my jeans were discarded again, not to be used again that day. There was plenty of groping at my well used cock. They couldn't keep their hands off this talented manflesh. But they decided that it could rest from fucking, at least until bedtime.
However, halfway home, Logan slipped his pants down and pulled my hand over so he could sit on. My middle finger began to probe his hole in lieu of my cock. When he began sighing, "Oh, yeah," Wilson did the same with my other hand. We rode that way the rest of the trip, me in the middle with a finger up each ass, and their hands groping my cock. I had a man on first and a man on third.
At the club that night, 9 and I were switched back and forth between Wilson and Logan at least four times. We were traded like rookie players.
[What hidden talent does 37 have? What happens when a slave top leaves the club? What happens at a slave reunion? And why is 37 congratulated when he serves as the centerpiece? Find out in the next episode.]