MLB Playoffs Part 12
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.
Epilogue - A Busy November - Detroit, MI
They'd flown him up the very night they called to tell him he got the job -- first class on a direct flight from San Diego to Detroit, which was no mean feat. His mind had been racing the entire flight till finally a flight attendant who'd been eyeing him for hours anyway walked up and slipped a couple mini-bottles of Jack Daniels onto his tray table. "You look like you could use these, honey," she said with a smile. He'd just nodded -- he wasn't really in the mood to chat with another admirer -- but the next time she came by she picked up both empty bottles with another discreet nod, and he'd slept the rest of the flight.
Now, three weeks later, Brad Ausmus was back in Detroit for the third time since he got the call. More cold. More meetings. More time away from the family. The hotel room they'd put him up in was ridiculously nice, Brad thought as he glanced around his suite, and at 44 he was a grown-ass man and should have been able to hold himself together. But with the frigid weather and all the new faces he couldn't help but feel the need for company.
So when the brand new manager of the Detroit Tigers spotted a familiar mop of brown hair across the hotel bar on one of his rare unscheduled evenings, Brad instantly felt a grin spread across his face.
Ian Kinsler looked up at the sound of a glass thumping down on the bar next to him. "Seat taken?"
The infielder grinned wide when he saw who it was. "Hey, skip."
Ausmus rolled his eyes, smiling too, that all-American smile that had won a million girls' hearts. "C'mon, bud, you don't need to call me that yet." He settled into the seat next to Kinsler. "I mean, I only been out of the league for..." He trailed off as the years added up in his mind.
Kinsler's grin broadened as he watched his new manager's face. "You're gettin' up there." He clinked Brad's glass. "Skip."
Ausmus shook his head. "Well, how the hell ya been, man? Haven't had a chance to talk since the news."
It was true. It'd been kind of a whirlwind for both of them since Ian was traded to the Tigers a few days earlier, the team hadn't even had time for a presser yet. The two guys weren't that close, separated by 13 years and never serving on the same team till now, but they'd rolled in a few of the same circuits and had done the same cocktail hours. And with both of them called away to a new city and separated from all that they knew, they easily fell into a friendly banter.
They'd both already had a few before they met, and Ian bought the next round -- Jack and diet, to which Brad gave a disapproving head shake but drank down nonetheless. When it was Brad's turn, though, he ordered them both a shot of Jack, which earned raised eyebrows from Ian. And when he added two bourbons on the rocks, Kinsler's expression changed from surprise to an intrigued smile. "So it's gonna be that kinda night, is it?"
Ausmus returned Kinsler's look. Before answering, he raised his shot glass, and his second baseman joined him in downing the shot, smooth as molasses. Ausmus took a sip of his bourbon before speaking again.
"And what kinda night would that be?"
Ian Kinsler just eyed his new manager for a few seconds. Ian didn't need the excuse of being forced away from his family to go digging where he knew he shouldn't. Though he did generally stick with guys closer to his own age, he thought as he remembered waking up the morning after the World Series house party with Craig Gentry's muscular arm draped over his chest and looking over to see Nick Markakis roughly fucking Ryan Braun on the bed a couple feet away. But shit, Brad Ausmus at 44 looked better than most guys did at 25, brown hair now lightly flecked with gray, a few creases, but the same gorgeous smile, same irresistible eyes...same powerful build, Ian noticed as his eyes drifted over where Brad's biceps swelled handsomely into his button-down, the two loosened buttons allowing the shirt to spread to reveal the crevice between his still-tight pecs, and Brad's massive catcher's thighs bulging irrepressibly into his brown dress pants.
Then again, Ian didn't even know if that's what his new skipper had on his mind. Far as he knew, Ausmus was a family man, a dad. He took a long swig of his drink. "The kind where we have too much to drink..." Ian smiled, taking another sip. "Reveal too much about ourselves. Make bad decisions."
Ausmus smiled too, embarrassed, lowering his eyes. "I might be ready to reveal some things about myself. I dunno if I've had enough to make any bad decisions." When Brad lifted his eyes again, it was like he was a 24-year-old rookie again, that smile on his face almost innocent. But deeper, in his eyes, Ian could see Brad's mind was working out thoughts that no one would call innocent.
"Well then, let's get you another shot." Ian signaled to the bartender, who made a "your-funeral" type of face before pulling down the bottle of whiskey again. The two ballplayers toasted -- new second baseman to new manager -- and downed the shots. It went instantly to Brad's head, and when Ian launched in with the questions, it turned out Jack Daniels made the best truth serum in the world.
"You excited about the new job?"
Brad sighed. "Excited. Nervous." He shook his head. "I've never done this before, y'know. They talk about guys as manager material, I guess they thought I was, but I'm not so sure. We'll find out soon enough, huh?"
"You're gonna be great," Kinsler said, clapping Ausmus on the shoulder. He gripped Brad's deltoid through the fitted button-down with his fingers and palm, pulling off just before Brad might've thought something was amiss. "Must be busy, though."
"Absolutely." Brad nodded. He put his hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples -- just thinking about it was enough to stress him a little bit. "You got no idea how much goes into every single decision...every little thing. And the media up here...it ain't New York, but they're still crazy about their Tigers."
The alcohol was getting to Ian Kinsler too, and he found himself staring at Brad's lips as he spoke. "Yeah...I know how that is." Ian's voice was distant; he was imagining his lips brushing over Brad's. As he kept staring, he could almost feel them touch.
He jerked back to reality when Ausmus hit him lightly on the chest. "Huh," Kinsler grunted, looking up. He touched the place where Brad had hit him, feeling his chest through the gray t-shirt that clung to his upper body.
"You, uh, you zoned out there for a second." Ausmus was smiling at him again.
"Yeah...sorry. Guess that whiskey hit me a little harder than I thought." He smiled back at Brad. "So. Must get pretty lonely up here."
Brad's smile faded. "Yeah." He took another drink. "Miss the wife, the kids. I mean, it's pretty busy but when I get a chance to stop and think..." The handsome ballplayer trailed off, looking cautiously at Ian.
"What?"
"Well, I shouldn't even be sayin' this, but the real problem is when I'm away for too long I tend to get...backed up."
Ian raised his eyebrows again. "Backed up?"
"Yeah...you know." Ausmus smiled. "Like any guy would if he's away from his wife for too long." A knowing smile spread over Ian's face now, too, but he said nothing. "Don't tell me you never had, you know. Needs."
For the first time tonight, Ian felt his dick swell a little in his underwear, rubbing against the navy blue boxer briefs. "Go on..."
"Well, me and my wife, we have a very, uh. Active sex life." An image of Brad Ausmus fucking his wife hard flashed through Ian's mind, and his cock bulged a little fuller into his jeans. "And when I don't see her for a while, I get...you know. Pent up."
Brad took another long sip of his drink as Ian paused, thinking about how to respond. "Well I feel you on that, man. You can't just, uh...take care of yourself till you get back?"
"Oh, I do, believe me I do." Brad chuckled, and Ian laughed along with him, though inside he was imagining Ausmus leaned back in his hotel bed, shorts around his ankles, stroking his dick to sweet release. "But it's never enough." He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "I mean, fuck, Ian, I'm horny as hell right now."
Ian swallowed hard. Brad's eyes were on him, but what his new manager had just said pulled Ian's gaze irresistibly down. "Jesus..." Kinsler whispered. Untouched, unattended, a high, wide ridge had risen into his cotton dress pants, snaking thick and full down the leg, trapped between the powerful expanse of Brad's thigh and the thin fabric hugging that big slab of catcherjock muscle. Brad Ausmus' cock was nothing short of gorgeous as it ached into his pants.
"Wow," Ian breathed. He forced his eyes upward. "Yeah, you, uh, you really need to take care of that." Ian felt his own cock sliding along his hip, thickening, swelling to its full hardness.
"You're tellin' me," Brad said. He sipped his drink, then looked around the empty hotel bar. "Just need to find somebody to help me out."
Ian's tongue trailed over his bottom lip. Fuck, Brad Ausmus was a hot piece of ballplayer ass...he couldn't even believe this guy was gonna be his manager for the next few years. If he couldn't even sit in a hotel and have a few drinks with the guy without boning up for him, how was he ever gonna--
"Might be there's somebody who could help you out," Ian heard himself say. It was like he wasn't even in control of his own voice -- it sounded smooth, confident. Almost seductive. He felt Brad's eyes return to him. "Could even be somebody here in this hotel."
"Oh yeah?" Brad said with a smile. Fuck, he was good-looking. "Well, unless I go knocking on every door in the place, or maybe there happens to be a hot brunette at the front desk, I'm pretty much stuck with Moe here" -- he jerked a thumb at the bartender -- "or you," he finished with a chuckle. He picked up his glass and downed the last of his drink. It wasn't till he set the glass back down and was about to order another one that he noticed the silence that had followed that last part.
He glanced back at Ian, and when he caught the look on his second baseman's face, he gave another little laugh, looking at Ian as if Ian had simply forgotten to laugh at his joke and needed a little reminder. When Ian kept staring at him, the smile slowly dropped from his face. "Wait..."
God damn it, that look of realization spreading across Ausmus' face was even fucking hotter. For a moment, Ian was terrified that Brad hadn't been dropping the hints he thought he'd been dropping, and he pictured his new manager standing and punching him in the face. But just as suddenly, Ian felt his voice taking control again. "No strings attached, skip. Just for tonight." His hand joined the rebellion, reaching out, gripping Brad's powerful leg, and when Brad didn't resist sliding confidently upward till his fingers found Brad's erection and grasped its thick length, tugging up toward the wide crown and stroking it gently through the fabric.
Ausmus breathed in sharply. "You..."
Ian squeezed Brad's cock again, silencing him. "Let me take care of you, skip." Brad let his gaze rise to meet Ian's, then just stared at the major league ballplayer who was holding his hard prick.
He nodded.
The next morning, Brad wouldn't remember paying the bill, or riding the elevator up, or unlocking the door. The next fragment was Ian Kinsler shoving him backward onto his bed, his mind racing with all the things that seemed wrong about this -- letting Ian see his hard cock throbbing into his pants, not even caring if he saw, or fuck, that Ian was in his room in the first place. He caught a glimpse of the training and media materials they'd given him over the past couple weeks, lying on the table where he'd left them to go down to the bar. It almost seemed like another, different guy had gone down there, and now he'd come back in that guy's place, was lying on that guy's bed. And it seemed like Ian was someone different too -- the Ian Kinsler he knew would never be standing before him like this, his own dick aching obviously into his jeans, looking at Brad with a hunger that Brad had never seen before.
Ian looked nervous too, running his hand through his shaggy hair and breathing out slowly. But then a look of resolve came over his face, and he spoke up, his voice clear. "You look great, Brad."
"Thanks," Ausmus felt himself saying, but Ian was already dropping to his knees, unbuckling Brad's belt, pulling the brown dress pants down.
"Wow," Ian whispered. Brad Ausmus' dick looked even better aching into his gray trunks, the massive ridge of cockmeat extending easily nine inches from base to tip. Kinsler took it again between his fingers, squeezing and tugging upward on the hard length of jock dick bulging into Brad's underwear. Brad stifled a groan. The tip of his cock slipped past the waistband of his briefs, the wide, wet cockhead just poking free, still held tight against the sharp curve of Brad's hipbone, offering a hint of just how much hard MLB cock still lay beneath the thin gray cotton.
Ausmus was in a daze as he felt Kinsler's fingers slip beneath and begin tugging down the last obstacle. As his trunks slid over his knees, then down past his ankles, he could feel the weight of his hard prick as it throbbed just above his tight stomach. He lifted his head just enough to see Ian's eyes fixed on him, keen and hungry like he was waiting for a sharp ground ball. It was obvious Kinsler wanted his dick, loved the sight of Brad Ausmus' cock swollen hard and hot and wet above Brad's abs. Suddenly the idea of this 31-year-old stud, a guy he was supposed to manage come the spring, really just a kid compared to Brad...it made Brad's heart race -- it was turning him on.
"Ian, wait -- unnghhh!" Brad's objection dissolved into a long moan as Ian Kinsler's lips slipped over his leaking cockhead and the handsome second baseman started massaging Brad Ausmus' cock with his tongue. God, it felt amazing, not just the relief he'd needed for weeks but honestly the best fucking blow job he'd ever had. Ian's lips were strong, his tongue skilled as it lapped at the underside of Ausmus' hard prick. Brad felt Ian's fingers stroking his balls and he felt like he'd erupt right then, and then Ian was taking him deeper, Brad's cock sinking farther down the infielder's throat before he slid it almost all the way out again to lick and suck on the sensitive tip once again. He couldn't help groaning Ian's name, "Fuck, Ian...aw, fuck, Ian, yes..."
It was so goddamn good that when Ian finally pulled free with a gasp of breath after two and a half minutes, Brad felt like he'd just started a few seconds ago. "Jesus!" Brad hissed. Ian grinned, taking the compliment. He was feeling more confident now -- not only had Brad not cut him off, but even now, as he rose to his feet again, standing over his manager, he could feel Ausmus' eyes on him and he was ready to take it to the next level. Something inside him had just exploded with desire for his new skipper, in a way he'd never felt about a guy Brad's age before, the fact that a man who'd reached 44 and the pinnacle of his profession was still such a fucking horndog was definitely part of it, and the fact that even after 25-plus years of chasing tail, then settling down with the wife and kids, Brad was still adventurous enough to take a spin with a dude for the first time in his life -- and with one of his own players at that.
"I really turn you on that much?" Ausmus said breathlessly. Ian grinned, then without a word whipped off his t-shirt, unbuckled his own belt and shoved down his jeans, letting Brad take in the sight of Ian's own 8-inch prick, thick and firm and bulging beautifully into his navy boxer briefs.
"Naw, skip, you turn me on THIS much," Ian answered, stroking himself steadily through his underwear, then pulling those off too.
"Fuck!" Brad muttered. His heart was still pounding as he took in Ian's naked form -- hard stomach, deceptively powerful upper body, narrow hips -- but he kept returning to that hard dick Ian was gripping, coaxing a steady stream of pre-come from the tip. Something shifted inside him, and that handsome smile broke over Brad Ausmus' face again. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and threw it aside, watching Ian's eyes light up even more as Brad's muscular, tightly-defined upper body was revealed. "C'mere, bud."
Ian smiled too and climbed on the bed. Really Brad had just wanted to feel Ian's body closer to him, had given in to his curiosity about how it would feel for that athletic 6'0, 200-pound body to brush against his. So when Ian instead knelt over him, running his palms and fingers over Brad's hard stomach, then up to grope his pecs, then leaned down, his lips inches from Brad's, his first instinct was to push Ian away.
Then he felt Ian's fingers slip around his hard cock again and his resistance melted. And when Ian's lips kissed the corner of Brad's mouth, and Brad felt his lips curve up in an embarrassed smile as Ian's nose rubbed against his and Ian's lips brushed against his again, and he heard Ian Kinsler murmur, "What about me, skip?" rubbing his thumb over the slit of Brad Ausmus' leaking-hard cock, "Do I turn you on too?" Ausmus' brown eyes met Ian's, and he breathed out slowly and gave the tiniest nod.
Then Ian smiled too, and pressed his lips against Brad's. The bourbon and whiskey swam in Brad's head. Ian's fingers weren't letting up on Brad's cock, and now another hand was sliding over Brad's stomach, up to his chest, cupping his pec, flicking a thumb over his nipple. Ian was just so fucking attentive -- there was no other word for it. Brad had never been with somebody who seemed so interested in making him feel good. And fuck, but they did feel good, those strong, masculine hands all over his hard body. In the drunken, fucked-up logic of this moment, Brad figured it'd be wrong not to return the favor.
"Mmmh," Ian grunted into Brad's lips as suddenly Ausmus was kissing him back, a little cautious at first, then harder, hungrier. Brad's hands, till then lying awkwardly at his sides, reached up and nervously made contact with Ian's bare skin, first just resting on the second baseman's lower back, then, as Ian kissed him deeper, sliding more confidently over Ian's own hard body, loving how new everything felt: hard, broad shoulders, firm, bulging pecs where there'd normally be a soft pair of tits, a powerful, tightly-muscled midsection where before there'd only been a thin but supple stomach. Almost at once he couldn't believe he'd never tried this before, though for the moment he forced his hands to stop at Ian's waist.
Still, barriers were tumbling down before Brad could even put them up, his mind shutting out all reminders that he was straight -- fucking married -- and in any kind of normal world wouldn't be rolling around with Ian Kinsler on a hotel room bed in the first place. Brad broke their kiss long enough to growl, "God, fuck, Ian!" then kissed the second baseman hard again, tongues wrestling, Brad's hands sinking ever lower, gripping Ian's tight ass in both palms, sliding around...
"Unghh!" Brad pulled violently free of Ian again, then flipped the younger player over onto his back. Kneeling above him, Brad Ausmus looked fucking magnificent, his powerful body bare, the contours of its trim but muscular shape clear even in the dim light of the room. And the way Brad was looking at him -- fuck. It was obvious that for one night at least, he'd left wife, family, and 44 years of heterosexuality in the dust. "You look fuckin' amazing," Ian breathed.
Brad grinned. That cute embarrassed smile was gone -- this was a grin of pure, unvarnished enjoyment. "So do you, bud." He shook his head, planting his hands on Ian's legs, letting his eyes trail over Ian's torso. "Can't even believe I'm thinkin' it, but goddamn, so do you." And Brad smiled again and dropped down, kissing Ian deep again. His aching dick was grinding against Ian's abs, smearing pre-come over the tight ridges. The new manager's hands ran all over Ian's body now, stroking his cheek, then down over his chest, stomach, and -- fuck -- wrapping around Ian's rock-hard cock.
"Wow," gasped Brad, breaking the kiss again, letting his hand run up Ian's thick length. "That's somethin' else."
Ian just nodded, panting with pleasure.
Then Brad got another idea. "Maybe...should I...?" He slid down on the bed a little. Ian barely had time to realize what Ausmus was doing.
"No, you don't have t--ohhnnghh, FUCK..." Ian Kinsler collapsed into a deep, convulsing moan as Brad Ausmus slipped his cock between his lips and started sucking dick. Ian's eyes rolled back in his head.
It didn't help that this didn't feel like some tentative, toothy amateur. No, Ausmus was somehow good at sucking dick. Really fucking good. He sucked Kinsler's throbbing cock steadily, hungrily, almost like he'd been waiting all his life for the chance, and with a technique that was basically fucking flawless, all smooth lips and warm, wet tongue. It was only when Ausmus tried to take Ian's steel-hard prick deeper that the 44-year-old married man revealed that he hadn't been doing this his whole life, gagging a little and pulling back, blinking tears from his eyes.
But there wasn't time for Ian to recover, or try to stop him again, before Brad Ausmus sank back down, enveloping Ian Kinsler's cock in his mouth again. Brad's hands were tightly gripping Ian's stomach, rubbing up and down over the cobblestone abs, as Ausmus licked and sucked hungrily on Ian's prick. Ian was gasping for breath, his mind shot, so totally overwhelmed with the incredible pleasure shooting through his body that he didn't even have time to stop and think that his manager Brad Ausmus was actually sucking his cock.
Finally, though, Brad pulled off again, sucking in air and rising to his knees on the bed again. He looked down at Ian, lying shaken and swollen and hard as a fucking rock below him, and just licked his lips. "Fuck!" Ausmus growled, breathing hard. "I think I liked that a little too much." No doubt -- Brad's cock was leaking like a faucet, spilling his pre-come all over his fingers as he groped himself.
"It just turns me on how hard you are for me, man," Brad went on. "You really fuckin' want this dick, don't you?" Brad grinned and cradled his hard, heavy prick in his palm. Ian nodded frantically, the words not coming. "This is so fucked up." But he was tugging on his cock now, staring down at Kinsler. "I don't have any...supplies."
"It's fine," Ian said quickly. "Just fuck me."
Brad's eyes widened, that handsome smile spreading over his face again. "Dude, are you...really?"
"Fuck yes," the younger infielder answered. "Here, I'll turn over if you want. You can think about somebody else." Ian flipped onto his stomach and Brad just stared at Ian's incredible ass, two powerful, round bulges of muscle jutting into the air, begging for his dick. His cock throbbed.
"No," Brad said, taking Ian's shoulder and flipping him on his back again. "Why the fuck would I think about somebody else when I've got you right here?" Ausmus leaned in and kissed Kinsler hard again. At the same time, Ian let his legs spread and Brad's sopping-wet cockhead slipped into the tight spot between Ian's firm cheeks, quickly finding the tight, sensitive entrance to Kinsler's hole. Brad tested it, driving his dick gently against his second baseman's cunt. Ian's eyes shut and his mouth dropped open with a soft moan; Brad felt his player tense, then relax, adjusting to Brad's size, preparing to take his new manager's cock. Ausmus circled Ian's twitching hole with his leaking prick, slicking up the tight entrance even as he drove the horny infielder wild, each gentle stroke nailing a hundred nerve endings while also suggesting with increasing force the power behind those strokes. Slowly, agonizingly, Brad worked Ian open, his dick streaming pre-come, Ian's own cock drooling clear honey onto his stomach, his entire body racked with need, till finally...
"Hooo shit!" Brad Ausmus breathed in sharply as his cock suddenly sank 4 inches inside Ian Kinsler's perfect ass. He'd never felt anything so tight, so firm, so hot around his dick...it was fucking incredible. For a second the veteran ballplayer could barely even think, but then he felt Ian's body relax even further and felt himself sink another inch or two inside his own fucking player, and his eyes locked on Ian's. He caught the hunger in Ian Kinsler's eyes, and something in his mind just clicked.
"God, fuck yes!" Ian Kinsler groaned as Brad Ausmus began steadily fucking him into the soft hotel room bed. Ian hooked his legs on Brad's broad shoulders and tugged himself in closer, trying to get his skipper to drive deeper, fuck him harder. He clenched and unclenched his eyes as Ausmus delivered stroke after stroke, expertly fucking the muscular ballplayer. Brad looked fucking incredible: his lip curled up in a half-smile, half-sneer as he felt Ian's tight jock ass take him deeper and deeper, the sweat glistening on the silver hair at his temples, his hard-muscled chest, shoulders, and arms swollen full with the effort of slamming his dick deep into Ian Kinsler.
Ian was in ecstasy. Brad Ausmus was hot by anybody's standards, but the idea that he was Brad's first guy, and the way Brad had taken to fucking him like a natural, not to mention that a guy Brad's age still had -- "aunnghh FUCK me!" -- this kind of firepower left, it all made Ian even hungrier for his new manager than he'd been when Brad first showed up at the bar. Kinsler was almost delirious as Ausmus kept pounding his jock muscle butt, his hands gripping Brad's meaty pecs, then sliding down over his own body, feeling the grooves of his come-slick abs deepen as he tried to lift his shoulders from the bed, and when Brad shoved him back down against the sheets and started fucking him even harder, it took him to a whole new level.
Ian kept moaning obscenities while Brad himself was silent except for the occasional grunt as he drove his 9-incher back into Ian's tight chute. Still, the strain began to show on both major-league studs. Ausmus licked his upper lip as he picked up the pace, and veins began to pop from his forearms, his biceps, and his neck. His tightly-muscled chest and stomach were now gleaming with a thin sheen of perspiration, and a few drops of sweat trickled down the sharp vee of his lats to nestle at the very top of Brad Ausmus's own muscle butt, creating a little tickle between those two firm cheeks, the true nature of which Brad wouldn't come to realize till a little later. Meanwhile, Kinsler was actually working even harder, the guy's full 6 feet, 200 pounds working double time to get a load fucked out of his impossibly hard cock. Ian's dick looked fucking incredible right then, his 8 inches hard as iron above his stomach, the crown a reddish-purple and now pouring pre-come down Ian's massive shaft. Ian had given up trying to lift his head to get a better look at Brad and now just lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his own biceps and forearms swollen and taut as he gripped the headboard. Just when Ian felt his cock bulge so full he thought it would fucking explode, Ausmus nailed his sweet spot one last time and Ian clenched his eyes.
"Nnghhh fuck..." was all the warning Kinsler gave before his entire body squeezed harder than ever before and then began bucking wildly on Brad's prick as he came in hot, thick ropes all over himself, soaking his ripped stomach and chest, even spraying one of his cheeks with his own cream.
"Jesus," Ausmus groaned. Then the rookie manager was coming too, growling out a deep "fuhhhhck" as Brad Ausmus unloaded his massive balls deep in Ian Kinsler's guts, breeding his new second baseman, filling Kinsler's cunt with pro-jock cream. The two studs just rode together for half a minute, letting the waves of pleasure wash over their muscular bodies, each of them feeling the other guy drowning in the same ocean of ecstasy.
Ausmus woke from the trance first and slid himself slowly out. Kinsler groaned as he felt his skipper's size all over again, then breathed out slowly once he was free, getting used to the absence of Brad Ausmus inside him. He felt a weight drop to the bed next to him, and the second baseman turned his head and let his eyes crack open a bit. Ausmus lay there on his side, looking at Ian, a faint smile on his face. Seeing that, Ian felt his own lips break into a fucked-out grin. "You okay, skip?"
"Okay?" Brad said, his voice low. "I haven't even coached a single game, and I just fucked my brand new second baseman."
Ian's smile faded. "I'm sorry, boss. I didn't mean to fuck things up...we -- I won't do it again."
Brad's brow furrowed. "Won't do it again? Guy, that was the best fuck I've had in my entire life. If you don't let me fuck you again, you can get used to riding the pine." Ian's grin returned as Brad ran a hand through his buddy's shaggy brown hair. "Naw...naw, the only problem is I might not ever be able to go back to my wife after tasting this..." Ausmus let a few fingers slip between Kinsler's legs, pressing at his hole, slipping inside the well-fucked entrance. Ian groaned in pleasure, his eyes drifting closed again. His cock, which had barely flagged in the first place, quickly stiffened and rose to full mast again. Seeing that, Brad wrapped his hand around Ian's dick, stroking the slick underside, then slid down on the bed and slowly licked up the long column of Ian Kinsler's prick before slipping it between his lips again and sucking slowly on Kinsler's cock. Brad's own cock was soon rock-hard again too, and when Ian curled his fingers around Brad's thick hard-on, Brad had to pull off with a gasp. "Fuck...and let's not even fuckin' talk about how much I like doing that...that can't be normal...fuck." He caught Ian's eyes again and let the second baseman lean in and kiss him slowly. "Mmhh...or that." Brad shook his head. "Maybe I just need to sleep this off..."
"Yeah," Ian murmured. "You're right, I'll go." He started to lift himself from the bed, but Brad reached out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back down. Their eyes met again.
"No...stay here tonight?" Brad's fingers trailed down over Ian's hard stomach, then slid loosely up his cock, flicking at the underside of the tip. Ian smiled, felt himself sinking back into the bed, felt Brad's bulky arm slide over him and pull him close, Brad's still-hard cock grinding against his. Yeah, they'd sort through whatever this was in the morning. For now... Ian watched as Brad got up onto his knees again, his dick standing tall, his massive thighs and ass bulging as he leaned forward over Ian. "You wanna go again?" Brad said, his voice heavy with sex.
Ian grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."