Mlb Playoffs

MLB Playoffs Part 11

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and is not intended to imply anything about the true sexuality of the celebrities mentioned or any personal knowledge about their private lives.

(Guys - here's the finale for this one. Sorry so long in coming. It's more of a collection of short stories so I've put photo aids after each little story...hope you enjoy. And please email me and let me know what you thought!)

World Series - Red Sox vs. Cardinals - Boston, MA

Ellsbury couldn't stop thinking about it.

He must have fucking wanted it. No matter how many times he turned it over and over in his mind, the cop hadn't lured him in, hadn't tricked him, hadn't done anything out of the ordinary at all, in fact. Which included -- once he recognized the Red Sox star in the driver's seat of the black coupe -- actually apologizing for pulling him over and ripping up the paperwork. That had happened to Jacoby once before, though this time he'd been doing close to 100 on the Mass Pike, and at that speed even being Jacoby Ellsbury might not have been enough to save him if he weren't literally on his way back from the airport on the night before Game 6 of the World fucking Series.

True, the statie had not only let the outfielder slide with a gentle warning ("Don't getchaself killed out here, we need ya tomorrow!") but had actually started gushing a little, how he couldn't believe he actually had "Jacoby fuckin' Ellsbury" in front of him, how the other guys at the barracks would never believe this in a million years, and hey could Jacoby actually sign that summons he'd been about to write? Ellsbury almost would have thought it was cute if the guy hadn't been probably 6 or 7 years older than him, with a frame bulging into his cornflower blue State Police uniform that was probably a good 20 or 30 pounds heavier than Ellsbury's own solidly-muscled body, and just as lean. Not to mention the very full bulge into his darker blue pants, the size and mass of the guy's equipment unmistakable in that state-issue uniform that fit him just a little too well. All of which had left Jacoby thinking less that the cop was cute and more that he was fucking hot.

Really fucking hot.

Ellsbury had felt his dick swelling in his jeans even before the big state trooper recognized him. But now that the guy was practically on his knees for the Sox outfielder, Jacoby's cock was rock-hard, straining his navy briefs, even visible beneath the denim had anybody cared to look. The guy was in the middle of asking him how he liked the matchups for tomorrow night's game when Ellsbury broke in.

"Hey, uh, Officer..." He glanced at the cop's nameplate. "...Riley?"

The trooper didn't bother to correct the title. He just grinned, nodding. "Yeah, Riley, Sean Riley."

"Yeah..." Ellsbury swallowed. "I really appreciate what you did for me tonight. I'd love to get you a drink when you get off."

At first there was only silence from Riley. Then he grinned wide again. "You're shittin' me, right?"

"No..." Ellsbury said, his voice low as he glanced over that thick mound in the cop's uniform pants again. He couldn't help grasping the thick head of his cock through his jeans. "I am definitely not shittin' you."

As it had turned out, Riley's shift ended just an hour later, and ten minutes after that, he found himself taking shots of Jack at Jacoby Ellsbury's house. He'd left his car out front -- enough to make a neighbor joke to his wife that maybe Ellsbury had "gone Hernandez" -- and rendered his service weapon safe before following Jacoby in. He'd thought it over and there was nothing about this that wasn't to code...though if he hadn't been so goddamn giddy with the attention he was getting from the starting center fielder for the Boston Red Sox, he might have realized it didn't make much sense in the first place for Ellsbury to invite a complete stranger to his house. But that nagging doubt had quickly faded after the first and second shots of whiskey. And after the third and fourth, the big cop started to realize somewhere deep inside that this wasn't just a gesture of appreciation.

With his hat off the guy had looked even better -- blond, probably just south of 40, clean-shaven with a powerful jawline that made Ellsbury's dick throb. Jacoby had taken every chance he could to check him out, eyeing the trooper's broad shoulders, thick-swollen biceps, and firm, round ass in between giving him a tour of the place. By the time they'd downed their fifth drink, Jacoby was openly staring at the 230-pound lawman, and the bulge in the muscle-bound cop's state police uniform had thickened and lengthened into a wide ridge of hard cock extending down the tight inner seam of his uniform pants. Their eyes met.

Ellsbury himself would have been the first to admit that he hadn't completely thought through his plan. After all, he'd never taken a dick before in his life -- never even thought about fucking around with another guy till a couple weeks ago -- and he was pretty sure this cop wasn't about to bend over for him.

Fortunately for him, Trooper Sean Riley knew how to fuck. God, did he know how to fuck, Jacoby thought as he sat in the dugout, his cock aching hard in the under-armor shorts beneath his home whites. >From dragging his fingers slowly over the incredible erection straining his pants and watching Ellsbury's eyes follow its length to the wide crown, to swaggering forward and pulling Ellsbury's hands toward him, placing them palms down on his hard stomach then easing them south over his equipment-laden belt to grasp the full, solid length of cop dick bulging into his tight uniform pants, to shucking those pants and letting that gorgeous 9-inch prick rise firm and free into the air before giving Ellsbury a practiced look that told him the rest of the night would go a lot better for him if he cooperated now, the trooper's confidence had made it almost natural for the till-now heterosexual pro jock to take this chance encounter to the limit.

Which was how Jacoby Ellsbury had ended up with his 6'1, 195-pound body bare, his 8.5-inch cock slapping hard against his tight abs, and each sharply defined muscle strained with the effort of fucking himself deep on a Massachusetts state trooper's long, fat prick. Fuck,the guy had felt amazing driving so far inside Ells, opening up that tight jock ass for the first time. He'd wanted to feel the stud cop's dick filling him up forever, but as he felt Riley's cock rub that spot deep in his hole, and his hands traveled over Riley's hard, round pecs and the ridges and valleys of his stomach -- bared after Ellsbury tugged them off -- and then he caught the handsome blue-eyed trooper looking over his own body, Ellsbury found himself leaning back, his arms swelling as he clutched the cop's rock-hard midsection, and shoved out his load all over Riley's chest and shoulders.

He might have thought the big trooper would just finish himself off right then, but Riley was in it for the long haul. He sat up, his abs clenching tight, a big grin on his face as he took in Ellsbury's fucked-out face and tried to process that he'd just fucked a load out of Jacoby Ellsbury, before taking the center fielder's firm torso in his grip and flipping Ells onto his stomach. From there it was only natural for Ellsbury to lift his tight round ass a little higher in the air. He flattened his muscular back, and before Trooper Riley's eyes, Jacoby's lats spread wide and his shoulder blades came into relief, framing the thick traps that descended from his broad shoulders. "Jesus," Riley had whispered, never realizing a man could look so goddamn good, before driving his dick all the way inside Ellsbury's perfect ass and fucking the hot center fielder in earnest.

Ellsbury rubbed his dick as discreetly as he could, remembering how Riley's deep thrusts had made his steel-hard prick grind against his sheets till he came again, soaking his bed in his own jizz, and the huge cop had emptied his balls in Jacoby's ass just a few seconds later. Twenty minutes after that, Riley had fucked him again, and in the morning, when Ellsbury's phone alarm went off at 6 and they disentangled their muscular bodies, the state trooper got up with him and fucked him in the shower, Ellsbury's cock sliding slick and hard against the tile wall. Ellsbury could still feel Riley inside him even now -- and could still feel Riley's lips on his, behind Jacoby's front door, dressed again in his sharp blue uniform, the kiss soft but confident. "I'd kick myself if I didn't at least try that," he'd said with an almost apologetic smile, then he was trotting off to his car, that tight muscle ass wagging behind him.

And Ellsbury hadn't stopped thinking about him ever since. Not as he got cleaned up and dressed, not as he drove to the ballpark, not as he took his BP...and not now, as he stood in the dugout during Game 6 of the World Series, one of the biggest games of his life.

It was even starting to spread.

Mike Napoli was at bat, and Ells found his eyes drifting down from the big first baseman's bearded face over his truly massive arms, barrel chest and muscle gut, down to where the outline of Napoli's sizable protector was visible beneath his belt. Jacoby felt himself remembering glances in the shower, in the locker room, things he'd seen but hadn't even thought about at the time. Napoli's got a fat fuckin' hog under there, he suddenly remembered. Guy's big all over. Ellsbury thought about Napoli pushing him down on the grass in center field, unbuckling his white uniform pants and shoving em down, staring at his teammate with wild eyes. Look how fuckin' hard I am, Ells, came Napoli's voice through his head, and Ellsbury would look down to see Napoli's thick 9-inch cock snaking up the side of his compression shorts. Ellsbury closed his eyes and fast forwarded to the 220-pound infielder just fucking Jacoby with that hard shaft of Italian meat, freeing Ells' own stiff cock from his uniform pants, licking, biting at Ellsbury's neck...

"Earth to Bellsbury." His eyes shot open to see Napoli standing on the other side of the dugout, grabbing his glove from the batboy. He'd struck out and the inning was over. "You, uh, feel like playing this inning?"

"Yeah...yeah." Almost came in my uniform in the middle of the World Series thinking about you fucking me, that's all, Ellsbury thought, before grabbing his own glove and heading for the outfield, trying to will his erection away.

He didn't notice Napoli adjusting his own thick cock under his protector as he watched the center fielder's tight little ass disappear into center field...

Ellsbury: http://b.vimeocdn.com/ts/321/258/321258781_640.jpg http://redsoxchick.files.wordpress.com/2011/11/17793467_sldfxs.jpeg Napoli: http://binaryapi.ap.org/8e64ffe9e0874219b6f688ac7bb38dc6/512x.jpg

..."Damn, who's that big guy?" Napoli himself had no way of knowing another pair of eyes were on him, soaking in the Red Sox first baseman's brawny upper body. In the dimly lit hotel room a few miles away in downtown Boston, Brad Stevens felt his own cock swell a little harder even as Fox cut to commercial.

"Dunno, coach. He bigger'n me?" Kris Humphries grinned as he thrust himself upward, a particularly deep drive that made the first-year coach of the Boston Celtics turn his attention instantly back to the big power forward whose long, fat prick was currently buried deep in his coach's hole.

"Ungh. I doubt it, stud." Brad's eyes dragged over the cover boy's 6'9, 235-pound physique, drinking in thick pectorals, armor-plated stomach, absurdly swollen arms. Humphries had never lived up to his hype since arriving in the NBA and was no more than a role player for Stevens' team, but his brief, ill-fated marriage to one of those famous-for-being-famous girls had plastered him on the cover of People more times than he could count, and given him a permanent cocky smirk that made his coach's dick throb. Not to mention that Kris Humphries really knew how to fuck.

Maybe it was cause he was used to handling a body that was so much smaller than his own, but Kris could fuck a load out of his cute, boy-faced coach in 3 minutes flat. True, Kris might have been more accustomed to swinging with guys his own size when he swung with guys at all -- since his trade to Boston, he hadn't been able to stop giving his ass up to Jared Sullinger, the C's forward who was just Kris's speed at 260 pounds of 21-year-old NBA muscle capped by a winning smile. But something about the rookie coach got to him too, and when Kris Humphries caught Brad Stevens eyeing him at practice one day with a look he'd never seen on any coach before, he winked back and instantly knew that he'd be hoisting the cute, nerd-hot Hoosier onto his pole one day. Just like he was right now, the young coach's handsome dick hard and thick and wet with pre-come as he sank deeper onto Humphries' thick stake...

Stevens: http://www.bostonglobe.com/rf/image_r/Boston/2011-2020/2013/11/08/BostonGlobe.com/Sports/Images/187172489-17669.r.jpg Humphries: http://sitracking.files.wordpress.com/2013/10/182603397.jpg?w=600&h=375

...Back at Fenway, even a few St. Louis Cardinals had their eye on Mike Napoli as the big Red Sox infielder trotted out to first base. "Can't decide if I'm grossed out by Napoli or just want him to fuck me against the wall." Shane Robinson reached down to adjust himself under his gray uniform pants, the cute little outfielder's oversized 9.5-inch cock swelling noticeably into the fabric.

"I'd take that stud deep. No fuckin' question." Seth Maness ran a hand over his stomach, then down to grip the sharp bulge of his own hard prick. "Bet he's got 8, 9 inches at least."

"Fuck yeah, and can you imagine that huge, hard body on top of you, just drivin' into you? What is he, 6-foot, 210?"

"220," broke in Tyler Lyons. The 25-year-old pitcher out of Oklahoma State wasn't on the Cards' World Series roster, but he'd been with them for a lot of the season and a lot of the younger guys especially were happy to have him in the dugout. Not to mention that till recently a bunch of the guys in the St. Louis locker room had enjoyed having Tyler's pretty face around and had fucked the young Cardinal pitcher any chance they got. But for some reason the top studs of the NL champion St. Louis Cardinals hadn't been as interested in Tyler, or Shane, or any of their usual fuck buddies recently. Which left those boys looking for other sources of hard MLB dick, and Lyons had been thinking about how to make his move on Napoli since Game 3 back in St. Louis.

"220. Fuck, Shane, he'd just pick you up and drop you on his hard dick without even taking his uniform off."

Shane raised his eyebrows at Seth Maness. "Don't sound too bad to me."

It didn't sound too bad to any of them. They'd been starved for dick for days now. None of them had even approached Holliday since the big outfielder, formerly an insatiable ass hound, had fucked himself hard and long on a stunned Shane Robinson's cock. Kozma said Freese had been the same way, practically begging the little 6'0, 190-pound infielder to fuck him deep, and the last time Pete saw his old top buddy, Freese had been climbing in his car with a couple of strapping young men in tight Cardinals t-shirts who from all appearances were simply two fans that David Freese felt like asking to rail him that night. They'd even resorted to discreetly asking guys they never would have even considered before. When Seth asked Carlos Beltran, the slugging outfielder gave him a curious look that didn't seem completely disgusted by the idea, then just turned away shaking his head. Kozma had steadily dropped hints with Wainwright until the older pitcher cut him off and said he was going exclusive with Wacha. And they knew Matt Carpenter had fucked Holliday, too, but Shane got no further than mentioning Freese was taking dick now, and that was all the second baseman wanted to know about.

Unfortunately the one guy they never would have thought of in a million years was the guy who was most interested of anybody in the St. Louis dugout. Cardinals manager Mike Matheny was 43, almost old enough to be some of these kids' dad, but fuck if the 6'3, 200-pound former Gold Glove catcher, still trim and in the prime of his manhood, didn't want those studs bad. He'd imagined fucking each one of em: driving his double-wide 8 incher deep into Seth Maness's tight butt, feeling the fresh-faced North Carolina rookie open up for him, splitting Shane Robinson open in the clubhouse, making the tight-muscled little outfielder moan as he felt his manager's dick slide deeper inside him, or taking Tyler Lyons back to Matheny's place, the grizzled veteran ballplayer fucking the handsome rookie in the same bed where he fucked his wife.

And what Mike refused to admit to himself, but what he knew deep in the back of his mind, was that he wanted all of these guys most of all because they reminded him of his son Tate, a 19-year-old sophomore stud at Missouri State. There had been nights, alone in his hotel room on the road, when Mike Matheny had pumped a load out of his low-hanging balls just thinking about fucking his own kid, the younger Matheny groaning for his dad to fuck him harder till finally Tate came in thick ropes all over his firm belly and Mike bred his son's ass with the same come that made him.

He might've been able to suppress it all if a few of those new kids hadn't given Mike exactly what he wanted. In fact, the Cards' electric 23-year-old closer, Trevor Rosenthal, had practically seduced his manager himself, taking the square-jawed, muscular skipper aside after a game one night and asking if Matheny could work with him on his pitch selection. Alone in Matheny's office, the 6'2 blond fireballer had more or less just grabbed Matheny's ample cock through his uniform pants and leaned in to kiss him hard. Matheny didn't even resist. He took the handsome closer back to Rosenthal's apartment that night and fucked the rookie's tight ass like he'd never been fucked, making Trevor come three times before Mike finally emptied his load inside his own player. Word spread -- in some directions anyway -- and it wasn't a couple days later that Mike Matheny was sliding his cock into Shelby Miller, the 23-year-old ace with sharp blue eyes and a shock of blond hair. Just a few nights after that, Matheny lay in his bed looking up at another of his young pitchers, grinning wide as Joe Kelly fucked himself on his coach's thick 8 inches.

Matheny remembered staring up at Kelly's trim physique and the 25-year-old pitcher's handsome features, feeling a load rising in his balls. He couldn't help thinking back to when he'd met Joe's fiancee, how the young couple had kissed and played around. Now that same guy was here riding Mike Matheny's cock, and his own ample prick was about to fire a load all over his coach's trimmed, muscular chest. "God damn," he muttered. "Don't any of my studs like girls anymore?"

Joe grinned, biting his lower lip as he felt Matheny's hard cock sink deep inside him. "You complaining, skip?"

Matheny gave a wry smile, running his hands up over Joe Kelly's abs, feeling out the athlete's lean midsection. "Not at all, bud. Just didn't expect every last one of my guys to chase their coach's dick."

"Well," Joe said, his hands now traveling over Matheny's muscular torso as well, "I guess your guys never had a coach damn near as hot as this one." The young pitcher wondered to himself what Matheny would do if he knew that Rosenthal had taken his infatuation with all things Matheny to another level, and after working a couple connections from their common St. Louis roots and plying him with a few beers, the handsome blond closer had hooked up with Matheny's kid too, letting Tate fuck him in the manager's own house one fall break. Yeah, all of Matheny's guys -- his own son included -- were a lot more into dick than this hot baseball dad ever thought.

Back in Boston, Matheny jerked himself to reality. Fuck me, he thought, I got a game to manage. He took one last long glance at Lyons' ass, letting his thick cock swell into his uniform, imagining that fat prick sliding inside Lyons' tight hole, the kid begging his coach for more. Maybe I'll get Kelly to see if one of those guys would fuck around with me, he allowed himself to think before stepping up to the railing and returning his mind to the business on the field.

Jacoby Ellsbury was at bat to lead off the inning, and things hadn't gotten any better for the horny Sox center fielder. As he stared out at the pitcher, he found his eyes drifting away from the rookie Michael Wacha's throwing hand and down over the front of the kid's gray baseball pants. Wonder what he's packing in there, Ellsbury couldn't help thinking, even briefly imagining dropping to his knees and taking the young Cardinal's hard cock into his--

God damn it, Ells cursed as he woke back up just in time to see the pitch leave Wacha's hand. He swung instinctively, felt the bat make contact, and ran hard, his dick rubbing insistently against his leg the whole fucking way to first. When he looked up, he was standing at first base and the crowd was cheering. Jesus fuck, Ells breathed. But no sooner had he caught his breath than his eyes were on Wacha's ass, his dick swelling again as he thought about driving himself into the rookie pitcher. Once again he barely woke up in time to see Pedroia slap the ball to third, and again without thinking he ended up safe at second. Fuck, I gotta stop... he started to think, but his mind wandered again as he watched the Cards' second baseman Matt Carpenter biting the strings of his glove to tighten it, then turned his eye to third, where David Freese was standing with hands on his hips, his ample endowment on full display. Before he could even try to tell himself to focus on the game, Jacoby Ellsbury was grabbing himself through his Red Sox uniform, imagining David Freese fucking him deep with the thick beast he looked to be swinging while Matt Carpenter knelt at his feet and licked the full length of his hard 8.5 inches before taking it between his lips...

Robinson: http://bloximages.newyork1.vip.townnews.com/stltoday.com/content/tncms/assets/v3/editorial/9/64/96447740-cc01-5301-9124-4c62015bc10f/513db006918f9.preview-620.jpg Maness: https://pbs.twimg.com/profile_images/1858174949/195998_1874467657566_1117411211_32200875_687923_n.jpg Lyons: http://www4.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Tyler+Lyons+Texas+Rangers+v+St+Louis+Cardinals+PPFoZQQRYIkl.jpg Freese: http://i.cdn.turner.com/si/multimedia/photo_gallery/1210/mlb-top-20-selling-jerseys-since-all-star-break-2012/images/david-freese-078106506.jpg Matt Carpenter: http://farm9.static.flickr.com/8431/7610827632_393b041a84_m.jpg Matheny: http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Mike+Matheny+V0RvXz5mwxCm.jpg Tate Matheny: http://images.maxpreps.com/site_images/editorial/article/2/3/8/2386a7dc-de48-48ac-a718-eaba7f47f8e5/2c560dc7-ac62-e111-8395-002655e6c45a_original.jpg Rosenthal: http://media.bnd.com/smedia/2013/10/25/21/34/Iaw4J.AuSt.98.jpeg Miller: http://thecardinalnationblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/Miller-300_3555.jpg Kelly: http://cbsstlouis.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/slp2013012015.jpg?w=620

..."Yo, what's up with Ellsbury?" Ryan Braun said to nobody in particular. "Dude looks like he's totally out of it." When he got no response, the Brewers outfielder looked to his left and swallowed his objection. "Oh."

A few feet away, Buster Posey was well beyond "out of it." The Giants catcher's eyes were closed, his jaw slack, lips parted. The 26-year-old kid out of Georgia was naked from head to toe, his muscle-packed 6'1, 200-pound body bare and tanned and slick with sweat. Posey's abs clenched, his pecs surged, and his biceps swelled full as he held on tight to the two round, boulder-like shoulders belonging to Chris Davis, the Orioles slugger whose 10-inch cock was at that moment buried deep in Buster Posey's perfect muscle ass.

All three guys were on an overstuffed couch in a huge beachside pad in South Florida, where they'd been invited to watch Game 6 with the owner and host, Chris's teammate Nick Markakis. But these guys knew each other too well, and what had started as a simple game-watch party had rapidly deteriorated to the point where Ryan Braun was the only one watching the game at all. And even his attention was rapidly being drawn away.

"Jesus..." the handsome ballplayer breathed. Davis, too, had been stripped bare, and somehow sitting there with Buster Posey straddling his massive body, he managed to make the San Francisco catcher look small. Chris Davis's 6'3, 230-pound frame was muscle piled on muscle, the huge first baseman big enough to knock 53 balls out of the park that year but still lean and ripped, the definition of each abdominal, each striation of his biceps and forearms and deltoids clear beneath his smooth, hot skin. Chris's massive legs were taut as well, strained with the effort of holding himself steady while a 200-pound major league catcher fucked himself on Chris's rock-hard cock. Not that Chris wasn't helping -- his huge glutes squeezed hard, driving his hips upward as only a man who squats 500 pounds could, sinking his throbbing-hard pole even deeper in Buster Posey's willing hole.

And Posey was sure as hell enjoying the ride. The Giants catcher clenched his eyes as he let out a soft groan. Posey's own cock, 8 inches of thick pro catcher meat, bobbed appealingly in the air in front of Posey's hard stomach as Chris Davis fucked him. Clear honey leaked from the wide slit on Buster's cockhead, dripping freely down onto Davis's tightly-muscled stomach. Posey's hands, big and powerful as they needed to be at his position, had sunk from Chris's broad shoulders down to the Baltimore stud's flawless pecs, and Posey was now cupping those slabs of muscle and flicking his thumbs over the hard nubs of Chris's nipples, poking firmly out at the crest of each wide bulge of pecmeat. Buster bit his lip as Davis's thick spike landed an especially deep hit. "Fuck me, Chris..." It was almost obscene to hear that soft Georgia lilt begging for dick.

Chris seemed to sense that they were being watched, and he turned to see Ryan Braun's eyes raking over him, a mixture of fear, admiration, and unvarnished lust on the jock's face. Chris grinned, his bright blue eyes gleaming. "You can go next if you want, buddy," he said in a calm, even tone, even as he kept splitting Buster Posey open. The catcher's own powerfully muscled thighs struggled to keep up the furious pace that Chris's steady thrusts were dictating.

"Fuck," Braun answered. "I don't wanna go next -- I wanna go now."

Chris grinned wider. Braun's body confirmed what his lips were saying. Below Braun's wide, thick shoulders, brawn-swollen arms, and muscle-packed chest and stomach, an almost impossibly huge erection tented the 30-year-old's navy Brewers shorts. Davis could clearly see the wide crown of Braun's cock, outlined by the thin mesh as it tugged the loose fabric upward. He marveled at the sheer size of it -- he was sure it was bigger than his, and as he kept staring he guessed the left fielder had to have at least a foot of thick California boy dick throbbing beautifully into his shorts. Fuck, a beast like that -- on a guy who was just as ripped as Chris, and with the sexual drive to match -- it was almost enough to make Chris rethink his priorities when it came to fucking around with other MLB jocks.

Almost. "You think you can ride this dick?" he said. Right on cue, Buster Posey let out a long groan of pleasure, Posey's cock now pouring pre-come down his own aching shaft.

"Maybe," said Braun, smirking. Shit, Chris loved that cocky smile -- even after Braun was caught red-handed this year, he still thought the ripped Milwaukee outfielder was one of the hottest guys in the league, and that self-assured attitude was a big reason why. And Braun wasn't helping by grasping the head of his massive dick through his shorts, the front instantly soaking through with pre-come as it spilled freely from the head of Ryan Braun's angry-hard cock. "Why don't you finish up with Bus first?"

Chris had no problem with that plan. He turned back to the handsome catcher, near delirious with the feeling of Chris Davis fucking him deep, and actually lifted Posey off his hard cock, veins popping out all over his biceps and forearms from the effort. Posey groaned in deprivation as the massive Baltimore first baseman lowered him onto the ground, on his hands and knees, then groaned even louder as Davis buried his dick to the hilt once again and started fucking the stud Giant from behind, harder than ever before.

Fuckin' perfect, Ryan Braun thought. Instantly he stood, shucking his navy shorts. Braun's incredible cock now rose unrestrained into the air, 13 inches from base to tip, no fucking joke, thick as fuck and tracked with veins along its entire length, all the way to where the massive head pointed high and true, already soaked with Ryan Braun's pre-jizz, ready to bury itself in a tight jock ass.

And Ryan knew just the one he wanted.

He pulled off his shirt too, leaving his own 6'2, 205-pound body bare. Braun rubbed his cobblestone abs and groped his huge cock as he stared down at Chris. The big first baseman was really laying into Posey now, driving his hips forward in a hard, steady fuck. Braun's eyes drifted from Chris's bulging shoulders down over his wide lats, a sharp v-shape that pulled the gaze directly down to his ass. Fuck, he thought, his cock throbbing and spilling a fat dollop of pre-come from the slit. Chris Davis's ass was gorgeous -- two huge, round bulges of lean buttmuscle, lifted high in the air to get the best angle on Posey's own tight rear. Davis's ass flexed tight over and over as he fucked Buster Posey, and Ryan felt his hunger rising. Ever since he'd arrived on the green fields of Coral Gables as a freshman at Miami, Braun had been the big man on campus, the stud who could get any girl he wanted. But he'd always wondered what it'd be like to sink his hard cock into one of his teammates instead. And that ass looked so goddamn good...

Posey saw him first, crouching behind Davis. Braun was slicking up his long, thick cock, closing his eyes as he imagined it sliding in. Now this Buster wanted to see, and he suddenly began clenching his tight butt, both forcing Chris to expend more effort in driving himself in and giving the Oriole stud exquisite pleasure each time he did break through. He tugged on Chris's nipples and subtly wrapped his legs around Chris's bull neck.

By the time Chris Davis finally felt a hard, thick pole sliding between his firm, round cheeks, it was already too late.

"Fuck, no..." he moaned. "No, what are you..." Posey's legs held his head steady so he couldn't look back, but Chris knew exactly who it was. Still, as Braun's slick cockhead rubbed over Davis's tight entrance, he didn't stop him, didn't fight. After all, Chris told himself, he wasn't getting fucked yet. Though if he'd seen the look in Ryan Braun's eyes, he would have known it was only a matter of time. Slowly, patiently, the Brewer outfielder worked Chris Davis open, alternating firm thrusts against Chris's viselike hole and gentle, circular massages with his dickhead against the sensitive spot right the entrance. "No...'mnot..." Chris breathed. "Don't...unnnghhh fuck..."

Davis groaned as Ryan Braun's cock slipped inside him. Fuck, he'd never felt anything like it, and instantly he wanted more, though what he said was: "Augh shit, guy, no..." Braun drove himself a couple inches deeper -- to his amazement, Davis was taking him almost easily. He was still tight as fuck, no question about that, but Chris was already starting to ease himself back onto Ryan's massive, hard-curving cock, and deep down, maybe he realized that when he'd said yes to Markakis's invitation he'd really been saying yes to this -- to all of this.

"Shooo..." Braun breathed as his cock buried itself five inches deep in Chris Davis's cherry jock ass. Below him, Davis's jacked body was tightly drawn as Chris just did what he could to take that cock like a man. And as his efforts finally paid off, and the crown of Ryan Braun's dick hit paydirt somewhere deep inside Chris Davis's untouched hole, Chris muttered a quiet "Fuck!" through gritted teeth and just like that started fucking Buster Posey again.

"Fuck!" Posey growled, his dick leaking again, this time onto his own muscled stomach. He hadn't been ready for that. He looked up and saw Davis's eyes, a stunning blue, staring down at him, determination on his handsome face, his square jaw clenched. "He fuckin' you?" Buster whispered.

Yeah, yeah he is, Chris thought. Braun's fuckin' me. And I'm fucking loving it. He just nodded and drove himself deeper into Posey's ass. A moment later Posey couldn't hold on any longer, and as Chris's cock grazed his nut one more time he arched his back, that cute, innocent face contorting with pleasure as Buster Posey came all over his stomach and chest. Somehow Chris held himself off from coming as the catcher pulled himself off. At that point it was open season. Ryan Braun wrapped his muscular arm around Chris Davis's own powerful body, his beautiful cock sinking even deeper into Davis's impossibly tight ass, and Davis's own arms and shoulders swelled fuller as he struggled to hold himself up against Braun's powerful fucking. Sweat matted his dirty blond hair against his forehead and trickled down between his pecs to his ripped stomach. Chris Davis's cock was as hard as it had ever been, red and swollen and leaking juice, ready to explode. Still, it wasn't completely, unequivocally clear that Chris had given up until he breathed out one quiet word.

"Yes..."

"FUCK yes," C.J. Wilson echoed, lying on the king-size bed a couple rooms away. The Angels pitcher let a grin of pure sexual bliss break over his handsome face. He lifted his head and looked down across his own muscular body to see his teammate Josh Hamilton sucking hungrily on the very tip of C.J.'s cock, focusing his attention where he knew his buddy liked it best, before sinking down and taking half the aching 8-inch length down his throat again. Josh's hand was down his own shorts, stroking himself steadily, the slugger's heavy 8.5-incher throbbing needfully into his grip as he swallowed C.J. Wilson's prick. "God damn, you're pretty when you suck my dick, J," Wilson groaned. Hamilton's eyes flicked up, his lips still bobbing up and down the long shaft of C.J.'s cock. He pulled off a second later, grinning and wiping his mouth.

"Can't you find somebody to shut you up?" he said playfully. The big Angel outfielder had been hooking up with his buddy ever since they recorded that stupid shampoo commercial together. "100% handsome, huh?" Hamilton had said with a smirk right before he kissed C.J. Wilson just a few feet off the set, his dick rock-hard in the uniform they'd made him wear. He quickly felt that C.J. was aching into his pants too and let the kiss deepen.

"Yeah, I can prob'ly help with that," came a voice from C.J.'s side. The two Angels barely had time to turn before Trevor Plouffe was climbing on the bed with them and leaning in to kiss C.J. himself.

"Whoa," Josh Hamilton breathed, his dick swelling even harder as he watched the cute young Minnesota Twin make out with his teammate. C.J.'s cock was now leaking too, as Trevor ran one hand through C.J.'s shaggy brown hair and slipped another down to run over the pitcher's chest and stomach. Soon he'd swung a leg over Wilson's body and was bent over kissing him slow and deep. That, of course, left the handsome Twin's tight little ass sitting just in front of Josh Hamilton. It was so easy for him to just..

"Mmhhf!" Trevor Plouffe groaned into the kiss as he felt a hand tug down his navy blue shorts, then a finger sliding over his entrance, then two fingers slipping inside him. Trevor's own ample cock rose suddenly into his shorts, tenting them furiously, as Josh Hamilton fingered him gently, working that perfect little muscle ass open. C.J.'s hand found Trevor's dick and the Minnesota third baseman loosened even further, letting Josh in deeper. It was only a matter of time before he felt something bigger, something harder, something that was unmistakably Josh Hamilton's fat, steel-hard cock, rubbing against him, demanding entrance, and he broke the kiss and let himself slide backward, Hamilton easing inside him as he went. "Fuck, that's hot," C.J. breathed, watching Trevor's handsome face as Josh's cock slid inside him.

Then Josh leaned back too, and lowered his own tight jock ass onto C.J. Wilson's ramrod-stiff cock, the spit that Hamilton himself had left behind easing the way. C.J.'s mouth dropped open and he gasped for air. One hand tugged Trevor's shorts down in front and wrapped around the kid's dick, making Trevor moan. The other was at Josh Hamilton's hip, guiding his buddy into a steady rhythm up and down on C.J.'s rock-hard pole.

"Fuck, kid's tight," Josh growled. That just made Trevor smile, which turned C.J. on all over again.

"Like you're not," he answered, feeling Josh's warm, tight ass envelop him again.

"Both of you just shut up and fuck me," Trevor urged, his tongue running over his stubbled lower lip. The two Angel studs grinned and shut up.

Across the hall, in the huge master bedroom, Nick Markakis was quiet too, lying back and watching as Boston came up to bat again. The Sox were up 3 now and St. Louis wasn't putting anything together...their guys looked almost distracted. Holliday kept glancing over to his own dugout before he grounded out, and Freese kept shifting his weight, looking like he couldn't get his stance right. Guess it's gonna be the Sox again, Nick thought. He looked down and smiled. Least I got this.

Bent on his knees on Nick's bed, Conor Gillaspie was giving the Orioles outfielder a slow but steady and immensely enjoyable blow job. The handsome White Sox third baseman had wanted Nick for as long as he could remember, so when he finally got the invite this year and his teammate Gordon Beckham had told him what this party was really about, Conor had basically been hard ever since. (Beckham had been hanging out with them too, just groping the big tent in his sweatpants as he watched Nick and Conor kiss and pull clothes off each other, but then Ian Kinsler and Craig Gentry of the Rangers had invited the shaggy-haired Georgia stud to come hang with them, and Nick figured Beckham was probably in the back now with Gentry fucking that perfect muscle butt, arms bulging as he held Beckham's powerful body steady, while Kinsler took Beckham's own sizable pole down his throat.)

"Feels amazing, G," Nick murmured. Gillaspie looked up as he kept licking and massaging Nick's cockhead. Fuck, Markakis was pretty, all squared jaw with that constant scruff that drove Conor wild, dark skin and big brown eyes, body that was lean and ripped and just bulky enough for Conor to easily imagine Nick just having his way with him. Even now, as Conor's eyes drifted over the rippling expanse of Nick's stomach, he could just picture Nick pulling himself upright, flipping Conor over and driving this spit-slick 9-inch cock deep inside him. Course he knew Nick swung any way his buddies in Baltimore wanted him to -- the handsome blue-eyed shortstop J.J. Hardy liked for Nick to fuck him before games just to loosen up, while Adam Jones preferred to spear Nick on his own huge blacksnake, and obviously Chris Davis was happy to fuck Markakis till Nick couldn't walk but would never give up his own meaty ass.

In fact, Chris had driven his thick 10-incher deep into Nick Markakis earlier that night, fucking a load out of his teammate before the party even started. Which was part of why he was happy to just lie back, running his fingers through Conor Gillaspie's hair as the cute young infielder bobbed on his hard prick.

Happy, that is, until he noticed somebody standing in the doorway.

"No way," Nick breathed. He sat up a little, his abs flexing under Conor's fingers. "Dude, you actually came."

Brett Lawrie grinned, stepping into the dim light of the bedroom. Even in the darkness, Nick could make out the impressive outline of the Toronto third baseman's body. Brett was just an inch shorter than Nick at 6-foot even, but carried 225 pounds of pure, ripped muscle to Nick's 195. The 23-year-old stud was built more like a running back than a baseball player. His upper body bulged beautifully into a tight blue t-shirt that did nothing to hide his broad, muscle-capped shoulders, firm, round bulges of pecmeat, or even the tightly defined plates of Brett Lawrie's stomach. His arms were on full display, the sleeves of the t-shirt straining against the swell of Brett's guns and the striations of his massive forearms dancing under his tattoos. Below Brett's narrow waist, his tree-trunk quads fought their denim constraints, proving that Brett was stacked from head to toe. And between them, to Nick's utter delight, the unmistakable outline of Brett Lawrie's half-hard cock was already swelling beautifully into his jeans.

Lawrie shook his head, staring at the White Sox infielder still downing Nick's shaft. "Yeah...I guess I figured why should I let my buddies have all the fun?" Nick didn't have to ask who he meant -- the last time he'd gotten up to get a drink, he'd passed right by where Jose Bautista was roughly fucking the Jays' scruffy, handsome catcher J.P. Arencibia, J.P.'s incredible cock slapping hard against his abs as his own teammate drilled him hard.

"So you're gonna let yourself have some fun too then?"

Brett smiled again, embarrassed. "I guess." He put a hand to his pec and rubbed it nervously through the t-shirt.

Gillaspie was now pulling off of Nick and turning to look at Lawrie. The cute kid out of Chicago felt his prick swell as he drank Brett in. Markakis was sitting up, too, then climbing off the bed. Brett was still smiling, his eyes down, but he couldn't help looking. Nick Markakis was gorgeous as he stood there naked, his tanned, chiseled upper body covered with just a dusting of trimmed dark hair, his abs trailing down to the hard 9 inches of jock dick jutting out obscenely from Nick's body. When Nick flicked those dark eyes up at Brett, he looked nothing less than a Greek god.

A breath caught in Brett's throat as Nick moved forward. Nick's voice was low as he came within a foot of the Blue Jay third baseman, his very presence making Brett's heart beat faster. "Honestly, I never even thought of you for this," Nick said. "I mean...the kid who throws his helmet at umpires and does Edward forty-hands for the cameras...?" Nick was careful -- he didn't want to put the guy off, but he wanted to make sure Brett came to it on his own.

Lawrie licked his lips nervously. "Yeah...I mean, I work hard, I play hard...but a lot of that shit's just for show. And when I heard J.P. was into this kinda thing, well. I've felt...stuff for some of my guys ever since I knew what my junk was for." Brett laughed nervously at himself. He couldn't believe he was saying this out loud.

Markakis looked at this cut stud, his heart pounding he wanted Lawrie so goddamn bad. And the way Brett was making Nick draw him out, painstakingly slow, was making Nick's dick throb and his chest thump even harder. Nick's voice was almost a whisper. "Are you...feelin' stuff right now?"

Brett looked up. Fuck. Nick was staring right at him, maybe ten inches away, a look of such intense desire in those dark brown eyes that for once in his brash, cocky young life, Brett Lawrie was speechless. So he just nodded. And Nick responded, slowly closing the gap between them, his eyes drifting closed. Lawrie left his open till the last second, when he felt Markakis's lips on his.

Fuck.

In an instant, Brett Lawrie shut his eyes and kissed Nick Markakis hard. Brett's hand wrapped around Nick's closely-shorn head, his heart pumping hard at the utterly foreign feeling of a shaved head beneath his hand and a stubbled chin beneath his lips. Lawrie's other hand found Nick's side, and feeling just a few inches of the tight muscle that lay in wait for him there set those fingers on fire, and Brett suddenly was running his hand up to Nick's chest, feeling the bristle of Markakis's trimmed pecs, then down over Markakis's abs and -- oh my fucking God -- wrapping around Nick Markakis's hard cock, feeling its strength, its hardness, its heat, slowly tugging up to the crown as he kissed Nick deeper. He didn't realize he was running out of air till Nick pulled back himself.

Brett Lawrie gasped, then breathed out slowly. He was still staring at Nick. "Wow."

"Yeah," Nick agreed, looking shaken himself from the hunger in that kiss. Not wasting any time, he reached down and lifted Brett's t-shirt up, exposing the stud third baseman's ripped stomach, then his smooth, round pectorals, all of it stretched and displayed even more beautifully as Brett raised his thick-muscled arms to let Nick pull the shirt off all the way.

"Wow," Nick repeated. Brett looked down at his bared torso, embarrassed again. "You like it?" he said.

Nick had to laugh. It was cute and fucking sexy how this dude who was obviously so confident in his body any other time was so self-conscious and naive when it came to measuring up in the eyes of another MLB stud. "Dude," Nick said, leaning in again. "Your body's fucking perfect." Markakis kissed the young Blue Jay again, letting Lawrie return the kiss tentatively, then more confidently. Then Nick's lips were trailing over Brett's bull neck, down over his pecs, his tongue and teeth playing at one of Brett's hard nipples, and finally down over the ridges of Brett's abs till Nick was on his knees, tugging apart Brett's belt, unbuttoning and shoving apart his jeans.

"Ohh fuck," Lawrie breathed. He still couldn't believe this was actually happening. His cock was harder than it'd ever been before, and when Nick Markakis reached in and squeezed its length through his tight blue and white striped boxer briefs, Brett cursed again. "Fuck, your cock's amazing," Nick muttered, running his fingers the length of Brett Lawrie's hard dick through his underwear. Brett was thinking Nick's was pretty fucking hot too, but Nick was obviously focused on giving the new kid a good time, and he wasn't about to complain.

And when Nick shoved down Brett's briefs and swallowed his steel-hard 9.5 inches between those thick, pouting lips, Brett couldn't have found the words to say anything at all. Lawrie's muscle-plated body tensed, each line of definition cutting deeper into his skin as he clenched Nick's shoulders, veins popping from Lawrie's biceps and forearms, his abdominals rising into even sharper relief as he leaned back and felt Nick Markakis suck his incredible cock.

From a few feet away, the view was even better. Conor had already spent himself all over Nick's bed once just watching these two guys kiss, and his cock was already hard and throbbing again. Now Brett had lowered himself onto the ground and was lying on his back as Markakis kept swallowing that massive prick to the hilt. Each time Lawrie lifted his body to look down at the pro outfielder massaging his shaft, it was like a little mountain range rose from his stomach, the hills and valleys of his abdominals cut deep into his midsection. And as Nick pulled off for air and lifted himself up to kiss Brett again, and Nick's own rock-hard prick dragged over those same abs, poking into the hard muscle, a whole new sensation rose from somewhere deep inside the ripped third baseman.

Without thinking, Brett pushed Nick down again, reaching one hand down to wrap around Nick's hard, wet pole. Brett let his muscular legs spread just a few inches, just enough to let Nick's cock slip between them and land right at the entrance to Brett Lawrie's tight, hot, utterly untouched asshole.

Nick didn't even realize what was happening at first as his cockhead dragged over Brett's tight entrance. He just knew it felt fucking amazing, and he quickly grabbed the lube that an alert Conor Gillaspie was handing to him, and slicked up his cock and then dropped his fingers down to Brett. It was only then, as he felt Brett Lawrie's hole twitch and tense against the cool pressure of his fingers, did Nick realize just what he was doing.

"Dude," Nick breathed, "are you...do you want me to...?" Despite his uncertainty, Nick's cock was on autopilot and was already grinding gently against Lawrie's hole. He could feel Brett squirm beneath him, that tight body twisting side to side. When he looked up, Brett Lawrie -- one of the baddest boys in the majors and a 23-year-old stud who could take home any girl in any city in the league -- was staring at him with a look in his eyes that could only be described as pure hunger. Brett's hard cock ached desperately between his stomach and Nick's. Suddenly Nick felt a need rising in his own chest, felt his dick throb and leak pre-come as it rubbed insistently against Brett's hole. When just the tip slipped into that tight entrance, and Brett sucked in air between his pursed lips, Nick's jaw set and a whole new look came in his own eyes.

"Flip over." Brett obeyed, and suddenly Nick was staring at Brett Lawrie's almost impossibly hot muscle ass. Lawrie's ass was a work of art, a masterpiece of muscle. Nick had seen it bulging into Brett's uniform pants dozens of times, barely contained by the tight fabric as the twin bulges of that incredible butt rose upward and outward, tugging Brett's pants with them, forcing the eye to it. In Brett's warm-up shorts it looked even better, unrestrained, the mesh just hanging off the two massive hills of buttmuscle. And now that gorgeous ass was bare, lifted up as Brett turned onto his elbows and knees. There was no other way to put it -- Brett Lawrie's ass was begging to get fucked.

His heart pounding, Nick Markakis let his dripping-hard prick slip between those two firm, round bulges again, finding that spot that made Brett's hard body squirm. As he rubbed his length harder against that sensitive spot, Brett let out a whispered, "Fuck!" and quickly pushed back against Nick's cockhead. Markakis responded, maneuvering his lean body into a better position, setting his hands on Brett's hips, and slowly but confidently driving his hard 9-inch cock into Brett Lawrie's tight jock ass.

Nick breathed out slowly, his mouth wide, as he felt just how tight this ripped baseballer was. The lube helped, a lot, but he knew he'd have to take it slow. Patiently, but with a rising need, Markakis slid himself deeper inside the young Canadian, still nearly speechless as he stared down at that perfect ass and wondered if this was really happening. His eye had caught on Lawrie's butt so many times, he'd even jerked off to it more than once, and now... "Just relax, bro," Nick whispered. "You feel fucking awesome."

"Yeah..." Brett breathed. "You too." And slowly but surely, he started to relax, even letting Nick slide himself almost all the way out, then all the way in again. "Fuck..." the big infielder grunted as he felt Nick sink deep. Then, as Nick did it again, and found a new and deeper place inside Brett, he let out a long breath. "Whoa." Nick paused and reached down, quickly finding Brett's own thick cock. It had flagged a little but as Nick drove himself deep again, he felt Brett Lawrie's dick suddenly swelling, rising hard and heavy and full into Nick's grip. He smiled. This stud was ready for more.

Slowly Markakis increased the pace, and with each passing second Brett's dick throbbed harder and the vise-like grip his ass had on Nick's prick loosened. Nick found himself sweating, droplets trickling between his pecs and down his flat abs, as he drove his hips forward, driving his dick farther and farther into this young colt's tight muscle butt. A moment later he felt Brett respond again, now pressing back against Nick's thrusts with equal force, trying to get that hard cock deeper in his new jock cunt. Brett lifted himself from his elbows to his hands, bracing himself against the floor, his triceps and delts cut into sharp definition as he held himself up against Nick's steady fucking. He could feel his cock throbbing, begging for release, and he could feel he was about to get it too, Brett's heavy balls churning with cream as they hung below his hard prick, shuddering with each steady drive. Markakis didn't let up, fucking Brett Lawrie harder and harder. From behind they looked incredible, Nick's muscular shoulders and back tapering down to where his own tight ass propelled him forward, then two pairs of muscular thighs and calves, Nick's between Brett's, spreading Brett's wide, the young Blue Jay's feet curling and uncurling as he felt Nick bury his cock deep inside him over and over.

When he couldn't bear it anymore, Lawrie started to beg.

"Fuck me..." he groaned. It was almost inaudible at first, but quickly rose in volume as Brett's dick ached. "Fuck me, Nick, Jesus, fuck me, bro..." It drove Nick into another gear, and soon he was pistoning his steel-hard prick in and out of Brett Lawrie's ass. Markakis's arm curled around Lawrie's powerful body, Nick's palm flattening against Brett's abs. Brett was fucking panting now, each deep drive forcing a desperate breath from his lungs. It couldn't last any longer.

"Fuck...fuck! 'mgonna come, fuck!" Brett growled as he kept fucking himself onto Nick's cock, even as his 9.5-inch dick jerked, then pumped out twelve hot, thick shots of Brett Lawrie's come, each shot splattering audibly against the wall in front of him. Markakis was coming too, his fingers digging into Brett's abs as he buried himself deep one last time and then just fucking unloaded his balls into Lawrie's hole, breeding this swaggering MLB stud for the first time.

When they finally caught their breath a minute and a half later, Nick figured he'd be horrified by what happened, might even try to kick his ass. Instead, Brett turned, sitting up a little, his still-hard dick dribbling come onto his abs, a wide smirk on his stubbled face. The cocky kid was back, Nick realized as Brett's blue eyes twinkled. "Your turn, bro," Brett said with a grin, running his hand up the hard length of his prick...

Braun: http://www.millerparkdrunk.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/ryanbrauncasual.jpg Davis: http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5332/7423711236_54392c1557.jpg Posey: http://blog.sfgate.com/giants/files/2013/07/buster-posey-cover2.jpeg Wilson: http://blog.eastbay.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/01/CJ-Wilson-Eastbay-Photo-Shoot1.jpg Hamilton: http://sportsmediaatitsfinest.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/8f0348b4231fe9113348e5918e038ac5.jpg Plouffe: http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/1390thefan.com/files/2012/09/trevor-plouffe-1.jpg Markakis: http://www.ngngsports.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/nick-markakis.jpg Gillaspie: http://www.csnchicago.com/sportsnetChicago/thumbnails/352/166/Sox_Locker_04-27_640x360_28283459887.jpg Lawrie: http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Brett+Lawrie+Toronto+Blue+Jays+v+Baltimore+iZCk1-Rdvtzl.jpg Lawrie: http://thechronicleherald.ca/sites/default/files/imagecache/ch_article_main_image/articles/B97155536Z.120130307235622000GBO2FGBL.11.jpg

...Behind them on the TV, the Red Sox had plated three more runs and led 6-0. One of those had come from Jacoby Ellsbury, who between innings had simply trotted back to the clubhouse, unbuckled his white uniform pants, tugged his painfully hard cock out and quickly jerked out a load thinking about some fratty Masshole fan in an Ellsbury jersey fucking him deep. Jacoby's come soaked the door of the stall, but he didn't even have time to wipe down the door before buckling back up and heading out. In his very next at-bat a few minutes later Ellsbury doubled, then came home on Napoli's RBI single with a grin on his face.

But not every guy in the Boston dugout was at ease. Daniel Nava, who wouldn't play a single minute of that Game 6, was instead stuck rooting on his teammates, and ever since his romp with Gomes and the Tiger boys, Nava had been more than a little curious if any of his other buddies would be up for some fun. It didn't take him long to get an affirmative answer.

It was that grin that did it, that cute, wide smile that so often spread across Nava's face. He'd been checking out his teammates -- discreetly, he thought -- ever since he got to the ballpark. Salty had a cute smile that he'd never noticed before, Nava thought as the catcher celebrated one of their first runs. And the other Sox catcher, David Ross, had kind of a daddy thing going on already at age 36, with that salt and pepper beard and grizzled, handsome features...not to mention a stacked 6'2, 230-pound build with a huge muscle ass that Nava would love to sink his cock into. Nava admired Ellsbury's tight body as he ran in and out of the dugout but didn't linger as he figured there was no way in hell Jacoby was into guys. He eyed Stephen Drew's ample ass as the shortstop turned on one for a homer. And of course he wouldn't mind swinging with Gomes again.

But what finally gave him away was that grin -- first when Gomes tumbled back out of the dugout at the end of an inning and slapped his glove against Nava's shoulder. "Should talk to Middlebrooks." Nava grinned just at his teammate's name, and Gomes knew he'd done good. And when he turned back and looked at Will Middlebrooks standing at the dugout rail, also left out of the lineup, smiling at him in a way Nava had never seen before, Nava grinned, and Middlebrooks instantly knew Gomes had been right. Daniel walked over and joined him, bulky arms hanging over the rail.

"All right, I'll bite. What am I supposed to talk to you about?"

Middlebrooks looked over, his sharp features breaking into a sly grin. His eyes crinkled in a devious expression. "Heard my boy Nava's been playing with tigers."

Just then one of the Cardinals hit a dribbling grounder to short and made it for the infield hit, and Nava wouldn't have been able to speak over the noise of the crowd. But he didn't need to answer aloud -- that wide grin said it all.

When the crowd died down, Nava shook his head. "Gomes talks too much."

"God knows that's true," Middlebrooks agreed, glancing at the game, then back to his buddy.

"So...what exactly were you gonna do with this information?"

Now it was Middlebrooks' turn to grin. "Thought you might like to roll with some Sox too."

"Didn't know there were any Sox who wanted to roll."

Will paused as Matt Carpenter slapped a single to right. They were up 6-0, but this was the World Series, for fuck's sake, and any signs of life out of the enemy offense had every eye in the park on the field.

And not on where Will Middlebrooks took Daniel Nava's hand and pulled it over to where Middlebrooks' rock-hard dick throbbed into his uniform. Will had taken a chance and skipped the protector tonight, and Nava's eyes widened as he felt out the full length of Middlebrooks' prick.

"Whoa," Nava breathed, staring at his teammate.

"Yeah," Middlebrooks agreed. And when he reached over and found Nava's own 8.5-inch shaft also aching freely into his white uniform pants, both of them broke into a smile again. "You know, the commercial breaks on Fox are long as hell..."

Nava's grin gave him away one more time. Within thirty seconds, they were in an equipment locker, Nava pinning Middlebrooks against the concrete wall and kissing him hard as he tugged Will's belt apart. He all but shoved Will's pants down, followed by his own...sure, he was in a hurry -- the fuck would Farrell say if he found em like this in the middle of a World Series game? -- but even more than that Daniel Nava was horny and hungry for all the baseball jock ass he'd been denying himself. And when he spun Middlebrooks around and sheathed his prick easily in the Red Sox third baseman, fucking Middlebrooks with hard, deep thrusts, he realized that Will must do this all the fucking time. Which only turned him on even more -- if a guy like Will Middlebrooks, straight to all appearances and dating a goddamn NFL cheerleader, was into taking hard dick from his teammates...well, was there anybody who wasn't potentially ripe for the fucking?

The answer from Middlebrooks, as they scurried back up to the dugout, was that he hadn't found one yet. Not only had Will been making the rounds on the Sox and with certain other guys from around the majors, but he'd even found willing partners in other unexpected places...

..."Hey, I fucked that guy last week!" Rob Gronkowski's face lit up as Middlebrooks' image flashed on the flat-screen.

Tom Brady let his eyes flick backward, but all he could see was an upside-down baseball field. Instead the Patriots quarterback just smiled and looked up at his favorite tight end. Gronk hadn't broken his stride and had returned his attention to Tom, his hands traveling over his QB's well-muscled chest as he sank his cock deep inside Brady's hole. "Is there anybody you didn't fuck last week?"

Gronk grinned, sticking out his big tongue playfully. "Don't tell me Tommy's jealous."

Brady made a face. In his defense, the horny 24-year-old NFL pro had been busy lately. Last Sunday after the win against Miami, Gronkowski had taken the muscle-packed linebacker Dane Fletcher while they were still in their pads, just stripped down Fletcher's tight football pants and fucked him right in the locker room. The day after, the ripped little sparkplug receiver Julian Edelman had come over to Gronk's place for MNF and ended up riding the big tight end's 10.5-inch pole, Edelman's own thick cock slapping against his abs as he rode Gronk's shaft hard. Wednesday during a field workout, Gronk had tackled the rookie wide receiver Aaron Dobson and wrestled him to the ground, Gronk's 6'6, 260-pound frame just dominating the otherwise powerful 6'3, 200-pound 22-year-old, and before Gronk lifted himself off, Dobson felt his teammate's massive cock drag along the meaty bulge of his ass. Then Gronk's hands were kneading that muscle butt, and then, when the rookie slowly started grinding his ass back against Gronk's rapidly hardening cock, he tugged down Dobson's mesh shorts and let his hand slide up over Dobson's cut stomach and chest, and before long Rob Gronkowski was fucking the Pats' stud rookie wideout too. And on Thursday, Gronkowski had even spread his own huge legs for Rob Ninkovich once he saw what that big defensive end was swinging. The handsome bearded stud hadn't even had to try, Rob Gronkowski was so horny for NFL jock muscle these days, and by halftime of Thursday night football, Ninko had Gronkowski on his hands and knees, driving his nearly footlong spear deep into Rob Gronkowski's ultra-tight NFL cunt.

But he'd always come back to Tom Brady eventually, just like he had tonight. After all, Tom was the one who got him started on this shit, just like he'd done to Welker, and Vrabel, and Bruschi before him, and just like Bledsoe had done to Brady. A guy never forgot the first time he dipped into that forbidden pot, and Rob Gronkowski sure as hell would never forget the first time he'd felt his hard cock sliding into Tom Brady's firm, tight quarterback ass. He loved everything about it, not just how much tighter Brady was than any girl he'd ever fucked, but how strong Brady was, how hard he fought when Gronk tried to just dominate him...and how much better it felt when Gronk won out anyway and they finished with Brady growling for Gronkowski to fuck him harder, his fingers gripping the bedsheets or Gronk's flaring lats, Brady's entire body tight and hot and slick as his thick 8-inch cock exploded all over his hard stomach and chest and Rob unloaded with a roar, soaking Tom Brady's guts with cream.

He'd even learned to stop saying stupid shit like how he was gonna get Tom pregnant, or that he was fucking Tom like a sorority girl. These days Gronk just shut up and did what he knew how to do: fuck. And it felt fucking amazing, Brady thought as he groped his dick, feeling his teammate nail his prostate repeatedly. Sometimes Gronk would lean in and kiss Brady, muffling the QB's cries of pleasure as Gronk's dick sank deeper inside him. Tom's hands slid up over Gronkowski's chiseled stomach, and up to palm his broad muscle-plated pecs, every second loving the thought that this incredible body, built for driving through defenders and reaching for impossible completions, was now 100% devoted to giving Tom Brady the perfect fucking he so richly deserved.

"Gonna come, bro," Gronk grunted. Brady could feel his own load churning in his balls. He heard a voice on the TV -- "...outs away from a world championship". Tom Brady knew that feeling well. He closed his eyes, reached up to grab tight onto Rob Gronkowski's powerfully muscled midsection, and smiled...

Gronk: http://www.esquire.com/cm/esquire/images/a6/esq-rob-gronkowski-photos092512-xtruPz-xlg.jpg Brady: http://www.stilettosetsports.com/wp-content/uploads/tom-brady-patriots.jpg (like you needed one)

...A thousand miles away, Wil Myers' expression resolved into a determined grimace as he heard that same line. All he could think about as he watched the Red Sox wrap up their World Series victory was how it could've been his team, could've been him hoisting that trophy and parading through the streets. And how instead he'd let all those guys just use his hole, had even gone back for seconds when they came down to Tampa.

Well, he'd worked through all of that now and Wil Myers was back to fucking on his terms. Which this weekend meant showing up at a hotel suite in Miami for what the confidential invite had billed as the 2nd Annual MLB Rookie Season Closeout. The hosts were last year's rookies of the year, Bryce Harper and Mike Trout. The invite hadn't specifically said this was anything more than a boozefest to celebrate the end of the year for the league's top rookies, but Myers knew those two guys well enough by now that he had a sneaking suspicion something else was up.

Nailed 'em on that one, Wil thought. On one bed, Harper, still just 21 but hulking with muscle at 6'2, 230, had Astros rookie Robbie Grossman splayed in front of him, the 24-year-old left fielder's head in the pillows and his ass in the air, just owning the rough, hungry fuck Bryce was giving him. Harper had stripped himself bare, and the bulky muscle of the young phenom's chest, arms, and stomach bulged with power as he drove his rock-hard spike, 9 inches from base to tip, deep inside the rookie's butt.

On another bed across the room, Trout was bent on his knees over Grossman's teammate, Houston's rookie center fielder Brandon Barnes. Trout had a build to match Harper's at the same 6'2, 230, and at just 22 had already gone from rookie of the year last year to serious contender for MVP this year. But where Harper was all eye black and stubble, a hundred rough edges, Trout was fresh and clean, the all-American boy next door -- if the boy next door had been an absurdly muscled pro baseball player. Still, that clean-cut demeanor had allowed Barnes, married and a dad and clueless about what this party was about, to let down his guard just long enough for Trout to sneak in, get him a few beers while they watched the game, then a few whiskeys, then lean in and tell Brandon in a neck-tingling whisper what a great body he had, then softly kiss the handsome rookie's jawline, each time pulling back to let Barnes see that this was still his buddy Mike Trout who was doing this to him, not some random homo but a masculine guy like him, a fellow major leaguer, a guy Brandon had no reason not to trust. By the time Brandon Barnes let Mike Trout's lips meet his and softly kissed the other young stud, he'd almost convinced himself it was right.

Their clothes had come off shortly after that, first Mike's shirt, then Brandon's, revealing the Houston rookie's tatted-up arms and impossibly ripped stomach. "You're so fuckin' cut, bro," Trout had murmured, running his fingers over Barnes' rippling abdominals. By then Brandon's shorts were tented with his impressive arousal, and it wasn't hard for Trout to slip his fingers under the waistband of those mesh shorts and slide them off. Barnes had looked down at his thick, beautiful cock with a look of bewilderment, like he couldn't understand why he was suddenly and achingly hard for Mike Trout, who, last he checked, was definitely a dude. But that dude was grasping his own ample erection in his red Angels shorts, and when Mike Trout leaned over and took Brandon Barnes' steel-hard prick between his lips, Barnes instantly forgot any objections he might have had to what was going on.

It had only devolved further from there, and now Trout had also lost his shorts and was holding himself above Barnes, who lay back naked on the bed, his dick throbbing against his abs, staring up at Mike's bare, powerful body. Trout's cock was impressively hard too, and when it grazed against Brandon's, the Astros rookie let out a slow, heavy breath. Trout edged forward again on his knees, pressing his hands to Barnes' chest, letting his cock rest thick and hot on Barnes' stomach, pressing his lips to Barnes' ear again. "You're fuckin' beautiful, man," the reigning rookie of the year whispered. Brandon's dick ached against Mike's hip. For some reason, instead of freaking him out, the words just turned him on more -- Trout was working him over masterfully. The stud from South Jersey licked Brandon's neck again, then murmured: "You want this inside you, don't you, bro?" and let his dick grind against Brandon's stomach.

Barnes just nodded.

When Robbie Grossman finally thought to look over at his teammate, breaking his attention from the incredible sight of Bryce Harper naked and sweaty and driving himself deep into Robbie again, the kid's eyes widened. Honestly, he'd hoped Brandon might have a little fun tonight, loosen up, maybe let one of the guys suck his dick. Instead, Barnes was curled on his back, his powerful legs perched on Mike Trout's broad shoulders, getting well and truly fucked by the 22-year-old Angel outfielder. Barnes' cock was red, angry hard, and dripping freely onto his stomach, which looked nothing short of fantastic as Barnes held his shoulders up off the bed. His arms bulged beautifully, the tattoos distorting with the expanding muscle, as Brandon gripped Trout's shoulders tight. Hanging in the air, Barnes' toes curled and uncurled with each thrust into his formerly untouched hole. His tongue ran over his lips steadily as he stared up at Trout, enjoying every second of his first fuck even as he could still barely believe he was even here in this room.

Yet somehow, when Grossman let out a soft "Jesus, fuck..." and Brandon looked over to see his buddy and teammate getting fucked long and deep just like him, the other Houston rookie actually grinned. He whispered something to Trout, who laughed even as he kept fucking the hot center fielder. "Ey Harper," Trout said, looking over with that boy-next-door grin. "Whenever you're done...Barnes wants you to fuck him next."

Wil Myers had to laugh at that too. Not that he was one to judge the Houston rookies for turning themselves out so quickly. Behind him was David Lough, the rookie right fielder for the Royals, only 5'11, 180, but with a ripped body that Wil had zeroed in on the moment Dave walked in the door. And a cock to match, Wil thought as he felt Lough's 8-inch prick bury itself deep in his guts once again, the horny youngster enjoying the hell out of fucking another MLB stud for the first time. Wil closed his eyes as he felt the KC jock wrap a hand around his own prick, sliding it gently but firmly up and down the length of Wil Myers' cock.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come if you keep doin' that," Wil groaned.

"Hope so, dude," Lough said, stroking the Tampa Bay rookie harder. "Wanna feel you explode."

They weren't the only ones who were close. On one of the couches across the room sat Tyler Moore, the 26-year-old utility man for the Nats who debuted last year but snagged an invite this year because Bryce knew he was one of the hottest top studs in the majors -- in fact it was Tyler's extra-thick 8.5-incher that had busted Bryce Harper's own cherry ass one night on the road when Bryce got bored with fucking Ryan Zimmerman's meaty butt or fucking the gorgeous and all too willing Ian Desmond and decided to give it a spin. And just now it was planted firmly in the tight ass of Khris Davis, the handsome rookie outfielder for the Brewers. Davis's tight muscle butt wasn't exactly unspoiled -- it was Ryan Braun who'd fucked the 25-year-old stud out of SoCal for the first time, and Jonathan Lucroy topped the handsome rookie pretty regularly now -- but he'd never experienced a skilled fucking like the one Tyler Moore was delivering. Not to mention Tyler's looks -- Davis had no sooner walked in the suite than Tyler's ruddy cheeks, perfect blond hair, and twinkling eyes had caught the kid's attention, and it wasn't 20 minutes after that that the two youngsters were kissing and Moore was feeling out the meaty bulge of Khris Davis's ass.

And in the back, with the last inning of the World Series flickering on another big-screen TV, the Florida Marlins were having a party all to themselves. You might have thought they'd pair off differently -- after all, as the 21-year-old flamethrower Jose Fernandez drove deep into his handsome Californian catcher Rob Brantly, and next to him the 24-year-old stud shortstop Adeiny Hechavarria steadily fucked his ripped teammate, the second baseman Derek Dietrich, the two Cubans were growling in Spanish while the two Americans groaned appreciation in English, with barely a word other than "fuck" or "si" understood between them. But really, as soon as Derek and Rob came in, all nervous smiles since the two handsome rookies had never hooked up with another ballplayer besides each other, and saw their two teammates standing there -- and then saw the massive 11-inch prick rising in Jose Fernandez' shorts and the impossibly huge footlong bulge snaking down the leg of Hechavarria's tight jeans, the two white boys knew they were gonna get fucked tonight. And the two Cubans had sealed it with a kiss -- hard and hungry from Fernandez, brimming with confidence after his sick rookie season and pretty goddamn smitten with the handsome and well-muscled Brantly anyway; soft and sensual from Hechavarria, who took Dietrich's head in his hands and just held the young infielder's gaze for a few seconds, letting the tension, the desire build, until finally the handsome kid leaned in and pressed his full lips to Derek's.

"You boys sure know how to fuck..." Derek said quietly, running his hand through his mussed brown hair as his eyes ran over Hechavarria's tightly-muscled body. His teammate just smiled and fucked Derek a little harder. Next to them, Jose Fernandez had flipped Brantly on his stomach and was clenching the full, hard cheeks of the catcher's gorgeous ass as the 21-year-old super-stud pitcher came hard into his teammate's tight hole, his lips letting fly a stream of Spanish. Rob groaned. "Whatever you're sayin' bro...I fuckin' feel you..." Then Brantly too felt his powerful body jerk and stiffen as his cock erupted, soaking the sheets in rookie cream...

Myers: http://i2.cdn.turner.com/si/dam/assets/130311100516-wil-myers-p1-single-image-cut.jpg Harper: http://www.washingtonpost.com/blogs/dc-sports-bog/files/2013/06/bryceunderwear613a.jpg http://static4.businessinsider.com/image/51d1d0a96bb3f7123a000010/15-reasons-why-bryce-harper-is-the-oddest-superstar-in-baseball.jpg Grossman: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/7/71/Robbie_Grossman_on_July_30,_2013.jpg Trout: http://www.gammonsdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/08/111212_mike_trout.jpg Barnes: http://blog.chron.com/ultimateastros/files/2013/04/BRANDON.BARNES-220x300.jpg and https://p.twimg.com/Aiys37hCMAAe2dI.jpg Lough: http://binaryapi.ap.org/65e23aa07fb64b1aa041e045b3daacd7/512x.jpg Moore: http://snarkinfested.files.wordpress.com/2012/05/tyler-moore24.jpg Davis: http://www.leaguesafepost.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Khris-Davis-1.jpg Fernandez: http://i2.cdn.turner.com/si/dam/assets/130626111053-jose-fernandez-t1b-single-image-cut.jpg Brantly: http://www4.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Miami+Marlins+v+Arizona+Diamondbacks+93vmtzGgmWql.jpg Hechavarria: http://www2.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Detroit+Tigers+v+Miami+Marlins+dMjlx6_V_FEl.jpg Dietrich: http://media.miamiherald.com/smedia/2013/05/24/22/15/aYOwc.St.56.jpeg

...On the screen behind them, Red Sox players were spraying each other with champagne in between shots of despondent studs in Cardinal grays. It would be many hours and many bottles until the Sox finally began to clear out of the clubhouse, some of them headed home to wives and girlfriends but many more, particularly the guys who'd downed the most of the liquor, not-so-discreetly grabbing asses and grinding dicks against each other, whispering plans and hotel room numbers.

Feeling particularly emboldened by the bubbly, and thinking back to earlier in the evening, Jacoby Ellsbury tottered up to Mike Napoli. Grinning, Ellsbury put a hand on Napoli's massive shoulder. "Some of the guys are goin' back to the suite the team got for us...keep the party going." He gripped Napoli's shoulder tighter. "You wanna come?"

Napoli grinned back. "Nah, buddy, I got somewhere to be. Thanks for the offer though."

Ellsbury frowned until a moment later, when Nava sidled up behind him and grabbed him around the chest. Fortunately the cameras had long since departed as Nava closed his eyes and licked up the side of Ellsbury's neck, then let one of his hands slip down to clutch Jacoby's hardening cock through his champagne-soaked uniform. Ells looked up at Napoli and smiled. "All right, man, see ya later then."

That little exchange had Napoli's thick 9 inches hard in his clean sweats as he walked out to the car waiting for him. He got in and the car sped away through the raucous streets of Boston, drunken celebrations on every corner. It wasn't far to the Back Bay hotel where the car let Napoli out and the Sox first baseman trotted quickly to the elevator and up to the third floor.

He smiled as the door opened. A handsome blond, six-foot and clean shaven, gentle lines on his face but his green eyes still bright, stood grinning at him. "You made it out alive."

"Yeah," Mike responded with a grin, stepping inside. The big first baseman's eyes trailed over the other guy's form, taking in the subtle rise of his pecs in his gray undershirt, the taper down to his narrow waist, and the ample bulge of his ass into his navy boxer briefs as he turned to close the door. The guy had been hot before he became a fireman, but now his body was almost obscene.

"They try to pick you up again?"

Napoli grinned wider. "Obviously." The blond shook his head in mock reproach before leaning in and kissing Mike Napoli deep. When he pulled back, he reached up and pulled a hair from his mouth, making a face. "You gotta shave that fucking thing."

"Yes, sir," Napoli said. "Can I fuck you first?"

The blond made another face, but quickly broke into a laugh. The 30-year-old firefighter pulled off his shirt, revealing a set of pecs and abs that testified to his hours in the gym and on the job. Napoli could see that his boyfriend's cock was steel-hard now, its prominent outline jutting across the front of his underwear. "My man, you just won the World Series. Far as I'm concerned, you can do whatever you goddamn please."

Mike Napoli smiled one more time, kissing his guy again, then actually picked him up and threw him on the bed. The Sox first baseman's cock was tenting his sweats hard, and when he pulled them down the blond actually licked his lips at the sight of Napoli's dick curving hard and hungry into the air. He stroked it once, a few drops of pre-come spilling down its thick length, then climbed on the bed. "We're gonna have fun tonight," Napoli said, and shut off the lights.