All characters are 18+
Hello folks, Welcome back to the 4th inning of this critical game for our Gotham City Knights who are now down 3 to 1 against the Windy City Bandits. We are in the depths of August, and Gotham City is in the hunt for the last Wildcard spot for the playoffs. Our former Ace, Anthony Dove, is in a battle of his own. The former 3x All-Star and Multi Time Cy Young Runner Up is having a rough season. He only has 4 wins out of 23 starts and an ERA of 5.23. Manager Todd Kelley is giving Dove a lot of leeway here keeping him on the mound. Todd has stated in multiple press conferences that he trusts his former Ace and wants him to figure it out on the mound. However, with 8 earned losses and the bullpen bringing back multiple games, I don't know how much time Dove has left.
The count is 3, 1 with the Bandit's number 4 hitter up and a runner on second base. Dove usually throws an inside curve to get back into the count. Dove winds up for the 3, 1 pitch, and... it's gone. A home run to left field. The Bandits are now up 5 to 1. The Knights manager is already on the field before the hitter gets home. Dove's night is over. Possibly his time in the starting rotation as well. He walks off the mound with his head down and visibly distraught. You can hear the rain of boos descend upon him from the press box. Hopefully, this is not the end of what was once a great career.
"Son, I am taking you out of the rotation for some time." The manager says to me as I stand in front of him in his office.
"I'm sorry, skip. I don't know what has gotten into me. I can't throw the damn ball." I say with my head down.
"It's not your mechanics. It's your damn confidence. You used to walk around here like you own the place. I could see your dick flopping around from my office window hard as fuck ready to strike motherfuckers out the moment you walked into the building. Now, you are just a shell. Find some fucking confidence, son. If I had any right mind, I would send you down to triple-A."
"No, no, I can get through this. Coach, I just..."
"I can't afford to give you time, son. We are calling up Clayton from Triple-A." That damn Clayton has been gunning for my spot since he was drafted two years ago. And I left the door wide open to take my spot.
"Listen, take the week off. I will tell the press you are staying in town for rehab purposes during the Bay Area series. Find your shit. I need my ace if we have any chance at making the playoffs. Otherwise, it is now an open competition for the last spot in the rotation. Don't let that silver spoon kid take your spot. But, if he's better, I can't save you, Anthony."
"I won't let you down," I say, with no conviction.
I have what some baseball people call, the yips. My teammates know it too because they look at me like a contagious sick patient. They don't know if my breath or my touch will give them the yips too. Just a subtle "keep at it", "you're fine", and "don't let it get to you." A few words of encouragement that aren't necessary for a response.
I almost feel like I should clean out my locker and hang my glove up. This is sports after all. Most have a few years of greatness and then a sharp decline just in time for the next young up-and-comer.
I sit at my locker with my hands on my head. I can't help but contemplate what has gone wrong to the point of earning my 5th straight loss. Every mechanic is the same: just no velocity, no vigor, and no umph in the pitch.
I feel a tap on my shoulder, "Dude, I know you are going through a lot right now. Take the time off and get back in the groove." Jeremy Stephens, my catcher, says to me.
"I'm going through a lot," I say trying to dismiss him.
"You found out your girlfriend cheated on you at the start of the season and you've been shit ever since. Just because you won't talk about it doesn't make it any less of a problem. Now you bottled it up and it has become the entire team's problem. You consistently gave us 15 wins a year. Now you are shit because that sexy ass ex of yours is gone. Or so says the idiots on ESPN."
"I don't think that bitch is the problem."
"You just called her a "bitch", my man. She is the problem. You need to let loose. Don't bury yourself in baseball. You need an outlet to get out all that stress and anger."
"Ball is all I got, Jeremy." I try not to break. He is right, to be honest. Both of my parents have passed. My ex only stayed with me for the money and to brag to her friends while she found her bid modeling break and fucked someone else. And the season is long and nonstop. There has been zero time to get my shit together."
"Listen, I think it's time you open up. Don't be so rigid and structured. You want to know why I'm always loose?"
"Do tell." I wave him off.
"You remember when I played in Oakland and I could never call a good game for my pitchers?"
"Yeah, teams started calling you `night off'."
"Yeah, and it was crap. But, my agent sent me here to New York for a weekend and specifically sent me to this club that had a thing called `Therapy Night' every month. It changed my life. Made the All-Star game the next season and signed a 10-year contract with this team in New York. Now you are stuck with me." Jeremy said proudly.
"I don't know, man. I can't see how one night at a club can get me out of this funk. I may be done and dusted."
"Hell no. Your mechanics are still intact. And you still have the velocity. Here, fuck it, I know your agent will be pissed but, my agent will contact you tonight. It just so happens there is a `Therapy Night' tomorrow night." Jeremy gets up before I can deny his offer. Honestly, I may take up any help at this point. I still love the game and want to play. I know from seeing how my past teammate's careers worked out that once you turn 28 and fail to hold your own, they start to look toward the next generation of players.
The good thing about living in New York is that most people only recognize the Basketball and Football players. Only the die-hard fans notice baseball players walking around. Otherwise, I am just some tall white dude walking the streets.
I drop my bag in my penthouse apartment and plop down on my bed. No lights, TV, or music, laying down on the bed with my arms and legs wide like a snow angel. My phone vibrates three times in my hand and my eyes squint at the bright screen. I read a notification from an unknown number. But the first line tells me precisely what I need to know.
Text 5551235890: "Hey Superstar! It's agent Mike from NewStar Player Agency. I heard from my client that you need some mental health relief."
"Well, I have just the thing for you. Come by "The P Spot" tomorrow night. It's the best thing athletes like you need to get your groove back. Just promise me not to Google or look up what happens there. Just come with an open mind."
"You may know, Gunner Altman, another client of mine who plays for the Empire City Icehawks. The driver will pick you two up at 8 pm tomorrow. Be Ready Superstar."
Fantastic. I am starting to believe this is just another promotional event. Getting tricked into signing a bunch of autographs. I can already see the headline: Anthony Dove, was sued by his agent for 1.5 million dollars due to alleged improper communication with another agent. I disregard one of the text messages and Google the place.
I chuckle at the results comparing the "P Spot" to the "G Spot." I don't think those are the results I am looking for. However, the third result was what I was looking for. A link to the club's website. I click and the home screen shows some objectively attractive men having a good time at a club. I shrug it off and look for more. The only thing on the website besides the photos is a quote that just says, "Come and Witness." Before I reply that I'm not interested, I pass out on my bed with my phone on my chest.
I awake in the morning to the sound of my phone alarm blasting right by my ear. The damn phone slid down my body overnight. I forgot to turn off my morning alarm which wakes me up for morning workouts. I have an actual free day for the first time in a long time. I walk into the living room and turn on ESPN. We are in that weird time of the year where Baseball is the only major sport besides the fact Messi is now playing in the MLS. I make a pot of coffee and eggs as I hear in the background,
"He's done and dusted. Anthony may as well hang up his glove right now. He can't pitch. He. Can't. Pitch. Hitters go up to the batter's box knowing their numbers go up when they face him."
"Come on, man. It is just a slump. He is still the pitcher he was two years ago. He needs to find the right adjustments."
"No, he's not. No, he's not! The city of New York, the historic Gotham City Franchise, deserves a better Ace than this man. This ain't two years ago. Move on. Call up Clayton Briggs. That's a stud right there. New York has no patience for past their prime players. This is a WIN NOW city. Dove is a LOSE NOW player. I'm done with him."
I pause and process what I just heard on the TV to the point my eggs burn. The burning smell brings me back to reality. I throw it away as I sit on the couch with my cup of coffee and contemplate. I used to think Baseball was the only thing that mattered. I woke up every day as a kid and hit the batting cage. I would go to major league and triple-A games wishing I was one of the players. Then I would wake up the next day and train harder. I hit a growth spurt in 10th grade and focused on becoming a pitcher. I was disheveled when major league teams were not looking at me as a possible draft pick out of high school. So I used that as motivation in college and signed a scholarship with a school called Big U. My pitching coach at Big U pushed me to become elite. We made it to the College World Series during my four years there. I found some motivation from the Football Players who got all the hot girls. I hoped one of them would notice me, so I pitched harder and faster. They did not. Instead, I was a first-round draft pick from Gotham City.
I became an instant star and worked to keep it that way.Then, I guess, the ex happened. I should have seen it. A gold digger. She only dated me because it gave her access to eyes from the businesses she would not have had anyway. Life began to make less sense. But enough of her. Now, the only thing on my mind is whether Baseball is worth it. All of a sudden, I'm bringing down the team. I should just text my agent and...
buzz, buzz
Text 5551235890: "Hey stud, just a reminder, the car will come around your place at 8 tonight. No need to dress nice, just be casual. Please bring a drawstring bag. It is the only thing you will need for tonight."
I almost forgot about the Therapy thing tonight. I want to reply no, but before I can...
Text Jeremy Stephens: "Just Go!. You will feel like a new man after--a rejuvenated man. If you don't, I will let you call all your own pitches the next game. I promise!"
There was only one thing I needed to know. I Google, "Is the P Spot a gay club?" The top response was simply, "Does it matter?" The thing is that I am kind of curious. During my four years at Big U, I heard rumors about the type of "girls" the football players were hooking up with. And I did what all guys do at that college age and experiment with watching gay porn. I must admit some of the twinks were objectively attractive. So... why the fuck not. My career is spiraling down. Why not experiment for real now.
I got ready as best I could. Luckily sports party's are not the most formal places. I dressed in my causal white tee and jeans. Maybe a pair of sunglasses as well to subdue some lingering hesitancy.
I received a quick text message from Jeremy's agent notifying me that the car was here. I head out the door. I smirk at the lavish BMW waiting for me outside and get in the back seat. I see another man in the car looking as depressed as I am.
"Hey, man," I said lethargically.
"Nice to meet you, name is Gunner." He replied in the same monotone manner as I.
"Anthony," I replied. "Your agent got you going to this thing too?"
"Yeah, I had a horrific season last year and a dud in the World Championships this summer. No goals or assists. He wants me to find my groove back. I guess this little event is supposed to bring my confidence back. I doubt I will." Gunner says as he looks forward. His body language screams that he does not want to be here. "What about you? I caught your highlights on ESPN. Seems like you are having a tough season as well?"
"I guess I forgot how to pitch. Every ball I throw is just a softball for the hitters. So my catcher had his agent invite me to this thing."
"You know Hockey players aren't supposed to partake in this type of thing?" He insinuated.
I looked at him questioning what he said, "I heard Hockey players are some of the biggest freaks. Especially when you win the cup."
"Trust me, we are. But this place is different." He said. I can tell he was hiding a lot of information.
"Dude, what is it? Tell me. Like bondage or masochist women?" I try to pry anything out of him.
"You may hop out of this car if I told you the rumors about this place." He said coldly.
I just left it at that about talking about the "P Spot." We talked about our struggles in our performance. He revealed he picked up a major injury two years ago. Although his injury is structurally healed, the mental side of it has not. The hit he took still haunts him. I opened up about myself. It did not take him long to figure out that all my struggles happened right after what happened with my girlfriend. Before I could deny it, the driver announced, "We are here."
I step into an alleyway and see an entrance with a sign that says "The P Spot" lit up. A line of young and old men wait outside, all looking eager to get in. The driver rolls down his window and says, "Go up to the bouncer and say your name. He will let you right in. Have fun boys, I can tell you both need the relief."
Gunner and I walk up to the bouncer. His imposing figure is even too much for us. He looks 6' 5" and could be a heavyweight fighter. All he says in his deep voice is, "Name?"
We both say our name with a hint of cowardice and a touch of sweat running down my temple. He looks at his list and looks back at us repeatedly until he says, "Yeah, I'm a fan of both those teams you're on. Lost a shit-ton of money betting on you fools. Y'all need this shit. Come on in."
Gunner and I walk inside the club. The initial hit of blaring dance music nearly burst our eardrums. The dim lighting and colorful rotating lights cause me to put my sunglasses in my bag. Two things were evident at this club tonight. First, everyone in here is male. Second, half of the men here look like they finished with life.
"I thought there would be at least some women in here," I yell out to Gunnar, but I bet it came across as more of a whisper due to the music.
"It's a gay club. Especially tonight."
Shock comes across me. "What do you mean?"
"It's in the name. `The P Spot'. Kinda self-explanatory. I heard men invite their depressed friends to make them happy tonight. Some physical therapy if you want to be punny about it." Gunnar snickers at his small joke as he loosens up.
A gay club? The only time I thought I had experience with a male was after my complete game to clinch the conference title at Big U. A girl from the cheer team came onto me at the after-party. We had a little fun that night. Her name was Tiffany. She had a great ass and perky tits. The only reason why I'm iffy about whether Tiffany was a boy or not was because, in my hazy, drunk memory, I thought she told me she was a part of some group called the Cheerbois or something like that.
Before I could inquire more, the DJ came on the speakers, "Good Evening Men and Boys. Tonight is the night you have all been waiting for, Therapy Night!." I flinch a little as a loud woo could be heard among the men who have been here before. "That's right and tonight is extra special. We have two very special guests tonight, Gunner Altman from your Empire City IceHawks and Anthony Dove from your Gotham City Knights."
A crowd of sports fanatics rush to shake our hands and give us a bro hug. I get the most out of it because since we are in the wildcard push, "Hey man, I'm pulling for you. I need to see the Knights in the playoffs. You got this Dove, Push the Knights to the playoffs." Just some of the positive things they said to me.
Gunner and I looked at each other as if we did not want to be noticed. Although it is 2023, it is still risky for an athlete to be seen at a gay club.
But, the DJ continues, "Now men, you know what we say at the P Spot,"
The crowd shouts in unison, "Keep the tea in the P!"
"That's what I like to hear, we `Keep the tea in the P'. Don't be bragging to your friends on Twitter and Facebook you saw the cocks of these two Superstars. So that being said here are tonight's therapists." The loud music comes on again but, it is outdone by the eruption of woos and hollers by the knowing men in the club. The regulars turn their head toward a staircase leading up to the floor. A stream of men with huge smiles come out into the club room. All of them are only wearing white underwear. Some come out in g-strings, others in jockstraps or briefs. These men have a sexual aura that I could feel from the back of the club.
I tap the shoulder of a man beside me who looks like he's been here before, "Who are these guys? What is with the underwear?"
He responds to my tap in shock and quickly transforms to giddiness, "Omg, Anthony Dove asked me a question. You are my favorite player." He says and gives me a quick hug.
I smile at him and scratch my head, "Thanks, it's always great to meet a fan."
"It's your first time, right?" He asks as he knowingly shakes his head at me. "So these therapists' are regulars from the club and, or freaks from the city or who knows where. They sign up to be therapists.' The chosen one's are assigned to one man to make them happy for the night. The best ones get assigned to all the depressed men. I bet you will get an extra cute one since you are a VIP here tonight." He joshed.
"I don't know about all that. I'm just one of the guys tonight. And what about the underwear?"
"Ah yes, the underwear. The type of underwear shows what they prefer. G-strings mean they are a bottom. Jockstraps are tops. Briefs mean they are vers. You were supposed to check what you prefer before tonight, but oh, hello." The man's attention was diverted to a fit, stocky Latino man with muscles and a jockstrap that was not hiding anything from the imagination. The man, who I assumed brought his depressed friend since he was happy, began to fill up the man's large, veiny forearms. His mouth gaped while his eyes did not come up from the man's jock.
I tip-toe back to Gunner and ask him, "Do you know what..."
He knew what I was asking and answered, "Top means you are a pitcher, bottom a catcher, and vers means you are Shohei Ohtani if you catch my drift."
"Yeah, I get it now." It seems like we are the last ones paired. We watch the rest of the crowd become acquainted with their therapist. The depressed men all of a sudden are now smiling for the first time in what looks like forever. At first, they were all hesitant, but now they looked like they did not want to be anywhere else.
All of a sudden, moaning is heard through the music. Everyone's attention was taken for a minute as the same man yelled, "Cumming!" We all watched a man drop his load on the floor as he was jacking off to his tall, jockstrap therapist.
The DJ came on the speaker and said, "Hey Man, the therapy session has not begun yet, and you nutted that quick? Come on, man." We all laughed at the DJ taking a jest at the poor man. Luckily for him, his therapist took him to the bar and rubbed his head as the post-orgasmic man lay on his thick thighs blissfully.
"What kind of club are we in, Gunner?" I asked.
Before he could reply, a sweet-sounding boy surprised us as he stood there hand in hand with another boy, "Hi studs, I'm Cody, and this is Carson. We are your therapist for the night." Our breaths were taken by how beautiful these boys were. Cody stood parallel to me with short pink rose-colored hair, a pale body, sexy glasses, and a g-string with his small cock bulging through. Carson was a few inches taller than Cody and had scruffy black hair, a toned body, broad shoulders, and tight briefs.
"Nice to meet you, boys," Gunner says almost stuttering.
"It is very nice to meet you, studs," Carson says with a slightly deeper voice than Cody.
"Yes, it is," Cody says as he comes to my side, stroking his finger down my arm. That little touch sent shivers through me like I had never felt before. "We were specially chosen to make you two happy. So consider yourself lucky you get us as your therapist tonight." Cody looks up at me as his head barely reaches my chest. I get a perfect view of his sky-blue eyes, which may have been contact lenses, but regardless, they were beautiful on him. I never thought I would think this but, this boy was hotter than any of my exes.
"I'm going to take this hunky hockey player away so we can have some fun," Carson says as he takes Gunner's hand and leads him away. Gunner's head sways back and forth as if he can't believe how nice Carson's ass is.
"I'll see you later, Gunner," I yell out as they walk further away.
"No, you won't," Carson laughs as they mix into the crowd.
Cody turns my head to him and hooks his arms around my neck, "I heard you need some uplifting after playing bad for so long."
"Ouch. I guess so. I've been pretty bad lately." I say as I start to mimic Cody's swaying motion.
"That's why I'm here. I want to patch you right up. I'm going to make you feel like an all-star again." Cody leans up and kisses my neck. I let out a slight moan as my hands find his slim waste. For a moment, I forget this is a boy making me feel this way. Then he moves to the other side and nibbles at my hot spots. I lose any care that this is a boy.
"You know you are my dad's favorite baseball player. I grew up listening to him cheer for you. Especially when you threw that perfect game in your second year." Cody grabs my cock through my damn jeans as he keeps talking, "He wants you to play well again. You won't fail will you, Anthony?"
I shake my head as he leans up and kisses me. I let his tongue in while my cock fights for attention. I just lose myself as he kisses me. My hands inch over his ass. It's soft and plump. I can't help but moan as he kisses me. This little minx knows what he's doing to me as he smiles.
"Get your clothes off. Our therapy session is about to begin." He says lustfully. I, of course, follow my therapist's orders to take off my clothes and throw them in my drawstring bag. I groan as I move away from Cody and put my bag in the holding area. I run back to Cody, with my hard cock flopping around in the air, as if I'm running down a hitter running to first, scoop him up, and resume to feel his pink lips again. I find it cute that he has to adjust his glasses and hold onto me as I pick up his whole body.
"I think I'm cured, Cody."
Cody shakes his head, "No, you are not. I have a lot of work to do on you."
The DJ announces, "Now that everyone is paired up and acquainted with their partner, we will begin Session 1 of therapy night. For all newcomers, Session 1 is only frotting and grinding until the end of this song. So get grooving."
Cody grabs my cock the second the song comes on and rubs it against his. I moan out at the size difference between us. I have a good four inches on him and it shows as his head only reaches half the length of mine. But damn does it feel good to rub my cock against his. Cody pulls back a little and rubs his head against mine. Our combined precum enhances the feeling. I can just see my cock getting redder as he goes on.
"I need you to do something for me, stud." Cody pants.
"Anything," I say in a sexual daze.
"You cannot cum before I do. I want you to show me that you can control yourself. Show me that you can own me, baby. Don't cum before I do." He turns his back towards me and kisses me as he grinds his tight ass against my cock. I hear little chuckles from him as he feels me tense my lower body so I don't bust over his back.
It also doesn't help that there are men around me already blowing their load. One man to my right busted as his therapist rubbed his cock hard on his. One man to my left drenched his man's ass with his cum. People are starting to bow out during the first half of the song. That goes for me as I try not to cum with Cody's tongue finding a home in my mouth and his beautiful ass grinding on my cock.
With the grace of some higher power, the song ends. The DJ comes back on, "Now that was a great warm-up. As you all know, if your cock is limp, you must find your way off the dance floor and move toward the back of the club. For the rest of you, session 2 begins now. Therapist, it is time to start your oral therapy."
The club woos. Cody and the rest of the therapists fall to their knees. The therapists attack their patients by taking their cock or ass in hand and diving right in with their mouths.
Cody dips down to his knees and gives me his cute smile as he strokes my hard cock. "Tell me what you want, Daddy." His soft hands made me moan. I watch his pretty blue eyes look at my cock every time my cock throbs. And at this moment, all I want is his wet pink lips.
"I want your mouth." I moan weakly.
"Not good enough, daddy. What do you want." He says sternly, as he grips me harder.
I look around and watch all the other therapist sucking their man. I'm the only one getting stroked. I say with a little more vigor, "Your mouth, baby. Put your mouth on my cock."
"No. I don't think you mean it." He says teasing me now. His other hand now fondles my balls.
I repeat with more base in my voice.
"Then show me. You have to take what you want, Daddy." He opens his mouth and sticks out his small tongue. He wags it from side to side teasing me.
I grow tired of his teasing. I step up, grab his head, and thrust my cock into his open mouth. His eyes light up in surprise, but they turn to determination. His tongue strokes the underside of my cock and then swirls all around my cock head.
"Oh my god," I moan. My hands grow weak which allows him to come off my cock.
"Good, Daddy. Now take my throat pussy. I know your big cock can reach back there." He says as he smiles. A trail of saliva runs down his chin.
I take control of his head and put my whole cock in his mouth. And he was right. Without gagging, he takes my cock down his throat. A heavy groan escaped me as I felt his warm and tight throat. The men next to me give me a fist pump and head nods as their therapist provides them with a blowjob. But I wasn't getting a blowjob. I was face fucking Cody until tears ran down his face. Cody didn't tap out or groan in displeasure. He just took it as my cock made his baby blue eyes water.
I allowed him some reprieve. I could not believe seeing my cock drenched in his spit. The sound of him taking in the air made my cock throb.
"Yes, Daddy," he says gasping, "Alphas like you dominate what you desire. You're an alpha, Anthony. Always remember that." I just love what Cody is doing to me. How he's making me feel. I'm beginning to remember what it was like to be the old me. I lean down and kiss this beautiful boy. Now, I shove my tongue in his mouth. The taste of my cock on his breath doesn't affect me. It only enhances the pleasure.
I come up from his sweet pink lips and take in this beautiful boy. "May I worship your cock now?" He asks as he fixes his pink hair.
"You need to beg, baby," I say turning the tables around.
He snickers and pleads, "But, Daddy, I'm just a nineteen-year-old boy that needs to worship your amazing cock. Please, Daddy. I need it."
"There you go, baby," I stick my chest out and feed him my cock. Cody grabs the base of my cock and suckles my head.
"Oh, fuck," I moan as my legs go weak from his mouth sucking my head so quick. He slows down as he tastes my precum dripping in his mouth.
"Remember Daddy, don't cum." His tongue licks up and down the length of my cock. He trails each vein on my cock as his eyes look at me. He goes back to sucking and taking my cock in his throat. My eyes go wild. I don't think I could last a second more.
A new song comes on. The DJ announces, "Alright, you horny couples. It's a new song which means you must now change positions. Why don't you horny patients return the favor and worship your therapist."
"How do you want me?" Cody says as he swivels around showing me his sexy ass and stroking his little cock.
"I think I want that ass," I say as I stroke my cock to his little show.
"You think? I like my men a little bit more confident than that." He stops and shakes his little ass.
"I want that ass." I bend down, spread his cheeks, and attack his pink hole with my tongue. His high-pitched moans drive me to rim his hole with abandon.
"Daddy, touch me. Look at what a mess you made of me." He takes my hand toward the head of his cock. My fingers are coated in his pre cum dripping from his slit. Instantly, I had an urge to taste this boy. My tongue penetrated his tight hole as his cock spasms between my fingers. I just had to taste him. I turned Cody around in haste and smiled at his surprised yelp. I grabbed the base of his cock.
In shock, he said, "No, Daddy. You don't have to. You don't have to... Oh, Daddy, your mouth is so warm." I took his little prick in my mouth. I just had to taste him. Every inch of his smooth cock was in my mouth. It was heaven. I would be the first to admit I did not know what I was doing. I just went with what felt right. Sucking hard and fast while massaging his cock with my tongue with every suck.
"Daddy, daddy, no, I'm, I'm cumming." Just before the song ends, Cody unleashes a big load in my mouth. The sound of his orgasm has my cock reaching its breaking point. I swallow his first two spurts. The rest fall out of my mouth. Such a big load for a small boy. I come up from my knees and share his cum with him. His tongue is all in my mouth as he jacks my cock hard. The men around me `woo' as they saw what I did to Cody as his cock was wet with my spit and cum. "I want his mouth too." "I want that hunks mouth on my ass." I heard from the depressed boy patients around me. I apologized to all the jock therapists in my head for taking their boy's attention away from them.
Cody hooks his arms around my neck again and pants, "That was not supposed to happen. You made me cum so fast with your hot mouth. I need you to suck me like that every day." He leans up again and kisses me.
"I'm glad you liked it, baby. Now I can cum whenever I want."
"Are you asking me or telling me?" He asks, tugging my cock with all his strength.
"Telling you." I pick up his light body and yell for the people to move out of the way as I put his back against the wall. I hold him from the back of his knees and line my cock to his pink hole.
"Yes, stud. Take what you want." Cody whispers to me as he nibbles right by my ear.
I thrust the head of my cock into his pink hole. I groan in pleasure that overtook the sound of all the people around us. Fuck, he is so tight. Just as I'm about to lose myself in him, the DJ comes on, "Hey, All-Star, not yet! Save the fucking in just the minute." The crowd laughs, but some around me encourage me to keep fucking Cody. Out of slight embarrassment, I relax and let Cody down.
The DJ continues, "Now, now, for all those left standing and waiting patiently. It is now time for session 3. For those who let their load fly, I hope you have some left for this next session. Or you can get to the back or get out of here, but we will definitely be needing more room for this next session. Gentleman, it is now that time. Let the real fun begin."
The room of sweaty, horny people erupts again. People from the bar and the back wall come back to the dance floor and participate in the therapy session again. The man who orgasmed first returned to the dance floor. He was begging for his therapist to take him. His long, skinny cock was hard and wagging for his therapist to fuck him. The song began. The man jumped his therapist's bones and backed his hole onto his cock. "Don't call it a comeback!" A man watching the action yelled as he cheered the quick cummer on. "I think this skinny man is all well and good now, boys!" The therapist jest, as he took control of the overeager man's hips.
The rest of the club followed suit. The DJ was right, there was a lot more space on the floor. Men who had bowed out were now at the bar drinking and hanging. The rest were on the floor in whatever position they could and fucked their brains out.
"Come with me," Cody whispered as he took my hand and led me down the stairway he came up from in the beginning.
We walk down the stairway into a narrow hallway with rooms on each side. I figured these rooms were for the therapists waiting to be announced. Now, the rooms were occupied by couples who I presumed were VIPs of their own. Each man moaned to their heart's content with their own space. Now that I think about it, wasn't I a VIP too? Why didn't I get one of these rooms? Instead, I had to jockey for space against all the other couples up there. I glared at Cody until he looked back at me with those cute eyes.
Then I hear a voice I recognize, "Put it back in my mouth. Fuck my mouth." I hold Cody's hand tight. I peek in to see if my assumption of whose voice that is. My assumption was correct. I see Gunner on the bottom of a 69 with Carson. Carson's long skinny cock glistened with Gunner's spit as it slowly inched back into Gunner's mouth. Gunner licked his lips and looked hungrily at it. The moment Carson's head touched Gunner's lips, Carson thrust his hips down and Gunner swallowed the long cock. Carson was working his magic as his fingers stimulated Gunner's hole and his mouth worked the head.
"You have to fuck my skinny ass now, Gunner. Make sure you fuck me hard and deep. I won't allow you to do anything less." Carson said as I left them to themselves and followed Cody again.
"Our space is up here, baby," Cody said, tugging me along. We walk up another flight of stairs. We end up on the rooftop of the club. The night air was a nice escape from the smokey club. The rooftop had three benches near the edge where, on more normal days, guys would come up and mingle. I looked up and took in the night. It was relaxing seeing the skyscrapers and the usual noise of the city. That's when I realized I was butt naked for the whole city to see with a naked boy right by me.
"I want you to fuck me here. Show the entire city you own my hole," Cody comes closer, kisses me, and whispers, "I want you to breed me on that bench and make me your boy." All thoughts of being naked outside escaped me. All my attention is on Cody. I needed him hard.
I kiss him back in a frenzy, pick him up, and place his hands on the back of the bench. He sticks his sexy pale ass out and shakes it for me. He looks back at me with those cute blue eyes that scream `fuck me.'
I could not care if anyone from those skyscrapers could see me. I gripped his hips and took his hole again. I bet my moans could be heard from miles away. His hole gripped me so tight. It's a damn challenge fucking him since every time my cock head gets towards the end, Cody clenches with all his might and draws me back in.
"Fuck, Cody, your hole is amazing." I moan at least twelve strokes in. I need to last longer for this boy, but I can't hold it any longer.
"This boy pussy is all yours. Don't hold back. You can fuck me again and again. Just let your cum fill up my hole." His sweet words do it for me. His moan and pants send me over the edge. I drain my balls into his hole with one last thrust.
"Daddy, your cum is so hot. I can fill it all inside me." I reluctantly take my cock out. I'm greeted with the sight of his hole pulsing and winking back at me. With every pulse, a stream of my cum escapes his hole. My eyes draw down his body as I watch his cum spilling down his sexy legs. I sigh in deep relief and just smile at how relaxed I feel.
We move around the bench. I slump down on it as Cody lays down and rests his head on my thigh. I stroke his pink hair as I say, "That was amazing. Best I have ever felt."
"I love how you just picked me up and fucked me. You took what you wanted. I saw six people watch from their office windows in those skyscrapers. And you just didn't care. You just fucked me like you wanted." My cock gets hard again to his words. His hand strokes me softly. I felt some pride knowing people from their high towers watched me fuck him.
My head draws back and takes in the sensation of his soft hand. "You are mine from now on," I say in a sexual high.
"Are you asking or taking me?" He asks, looking up at me with that cute smile.
"Let me show you," I bring him up to his knees and have him straddle me. He lets out a sexy yelp as I thrust into his gaping hole. My cum from earlier is making it easier to fuck him now. I bring him close to me and soak him all in. I move his little body like a sex toy on my cock.
"Hell yeah, fuck that boy!" I hear from the street. It only drives me harder. Fucking him is like pitching in a close game and the crowd is going wild. I move his body harder to get more and more people to watch.
"Lay down, baby. Let me ride you like the stud you are." His hand pushes my chest down. I move to the side and lay on the bench. Cody plants his palm on my chest and rides me slowly at first. It's so hot watching this little boy take control. He picks up the pace as my moans and groans get faster. My eyes then fixate on his hard pink cock. I take my thumb and right index finger and stroke him in a frenzy.
"Daddy, too much, I'm gonna, I'm gonna..." I bring his head down with my left hand and kiss him hard as my right fingers still work him.
"Cum with me, Cody. Now you have to wait for me." I grip his cock hard at the base holding all his cum in his balls. He screams in desperation as all the blood goes to his chest and face. I find his little pleasure spot in his hole. I fuck him to the point his eyes bulge from their socket and roll back in his head. His body goes limp on me as I use him for my pleasure.
"So good, Daddy. I knew you could do it." His lips find the sensitive spot on my neck. He knows his nibbles will make me lose control.
I let go of his cock and stroke him hard again, "Cum for me now as I fill you up."
"Thank you, Daddy. Thank you," He moans as spurt after spurt of his cum covers my chest.
At this point, his hole is wet, squishy, and oh-so tight. I grip his hair and hold his ass down on my cock as I give his hole another load. I kiss him as we both come down from our high.
"You almost killed me holding my cum in like that." Cody coos.
"Just a little payback for making me hold in my cum earlier."
"But don't you feel better, baby? Like your old self?" Cody asks, running his finger through my cum drenched chest.
"Even better."
We lay on the bench for some time until the DJ from downstairs announced the last call of the night. I hold his hand as we head back in. We both walk groggily and with happy smiles on our faces. I peeked into Gunner's room again and it was shocking, to say the least. Now he was up against the wall taking Carson's skinny cock.
"See Gunner, you like being up against the wall. It's not that bad." Carson says as Gunner pushes his ass back. It was a sexy sight watching a small boy take an athlete like Gunner. Gunner had a wide smile with his eyes fully dilated.
"Come on, baby. Take me back to your place." Cody leads me out of the club. The last two people fucking on the dance floor were two muscle jocks who were competing amongst themselves to make the other cum. The crowd around them was cheering for the man they wanted to win. We exit the club before they finish their duel. My driver pulls up in an instant.
"Happy seeing you all glowing now, Anthony. I guess I have to come back for Gunner after you." The driver says. We make out for the entire time as the driver doesn't pay us any mind.
There was very little sleep when we got back to my apartment. Either Cody was keeping me up or vice versa. And it was not just that night but the next night and the next for the entire week. I have never felt better and relaxed, even rejuvenated. Like a new man, ready to get back on the field.
It is the top of the seventh inning. The Knights are holding a slim 3 to 2 lead in a critical, all-important game. The Knights won three out of their six road games last week, keeping them a game behind the Wildjacks who they are playing tonight for the position of the final wildcard spot. There is a pitching change. The returning Anthony Dove is coming onto the mound. Let's see if he can return to his All-Star form from a few years ago. And goodness gracious ladies and gentlemen there seems to be a pink-haired fan wearing an Anthony Dove jersey screaming his tail off as Dove warms up. I think we all hope to be cheering that loudly soon if Dove can lead us to the playoffs.
Dove is off to a good start. Strike one fastball, strike two was a foul ball toward the left. Dove winds up for the third pitch and... by gawd what a lethal slider that left the batter dumbfounded. A first batter strike out for Dove and the crowd stands up in applause.
It is the top of the ninth. Dove is having a hell of a return. Only one hit so far, but four strikes out are leaving the Wildjack hitters dumbfounded through the last two and a third innings. The potential last batter is up. The crowd is still up in applause, cheering Dove on. Security has come down the stands to hold back the pink hair superfan who is going absolutely nuts for Anthony Dove. The count is 3, 2 and Dove winds up for the pitch... what a filthy change up from Dove. He left the batter swinging earlier like a cat swatting a fly. That's the game. Dove keeps his team in the hunt for the playoffs. If Dove can keep this form up, the Knights have their Ace back to lead them into the playoffs.