MLB Playoffs 2013 (part 3)
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.
Photo aids at the end.
AL Wild Card Game - Cleveland, OH
The night following their shutout loss to the Rays found three Cleveland Indians drowning their disappointment in a few beers at an upscale hotel bar downtown, a place where most of the patrons were from out of town and probably wouldn't recognize the three guys sitting morosely at the bar.
All three of them were guys who wouldn't normally be wearing a frown. Maybe that was why they'd ended up out at the bar instead of moping at home with wives and girlfriends like their teammates.
At the end of the bar, sucking down his third Bud Light, was Nick Swisher, 32 years old but still as jovial as ever. Swish's smile could light up the room when he was on a roll. Next to him, and already on to hard liquor, sat Ryan Raburn, often overlooked in Cleveland as he had been in Detroit, but Swisher thought he had the nicest ass on the team and had often thought of him as he jerked himself to eruption in the hotel room on the road. Finally, on the other end of this tired trio was Yan Gomes, who the Indians had moved to catcher when they brought him over this year, and who in keeping with his Brazilian roots had never bothered with beer in the first place and had started with a shot of tequila.
They weren't talking much. Wasn't really much to say. But there was plenty on their minds... Gomes, who hadn't had a bad night all things considered, was thinking about that girl in the tight t-shirt with his name on it who kept eyeing him from the front row of the stands and wondering why he hadn't just gone and grabbed her number. Raburn was thinking of no more and no less than how ready he was to get out of this town and down to Florida where he could relax in the sun and forget about baseball for a while.
And Nick Swisher, in between reliving each of his four unsuccessful at-bats that night, was thinking how he wouldn't mind laying his hands on the forty-something guy in a well-fitting navy polo sitting in a booth at the other end of the bar, who'd been glancing at him every ten seconds for the last few minutes.
The guy was well-built, that was obvious even from this far away. Maybe even bigger than Nick's 6-foot, 200. Certainly his arms looked plenty big as they pressed gently into the short sleeves of his shirt, and his chest was big enough to tug the fabric between them in that hot way a guy's shirt did when his pecs got too big. Although he was definitely older than Nick, his brown hair was still only flecked with gray and he wore the face of a guy who'd enjoyed life and hadn't let it wear him out. And his intense blue eyes made it clear he didn't think his days of playing the field were done either.
Nick was giving as good as he was getting, even as he figured he shouldn't be so bold here in Cleveland. But his dick was now swollen full into his jeans, the painfully thick 7-inch erection trapped in his tight boxer briefs since he couldn't very well adjust himself in front of his buddies. But the guy was making him fucking horny...he must have been sitting with somebody, too, because he kept turning back to talk to the person across from him and take a swig from his own beer. Still, Swish knew this probably wasn't the night for this, especially with Raburn and Gomes here. He'd just ordered another round for the guys -- that new cinnamon whiskey that was going around -- when he glanced back and saw the guy getting up and walking toward them.
Shit, he looked even better in full view. Definitely at least 6'1 with a trim, but muscular build. His polo was tucked neatly into a pair of gray pants that also left little to the imagination -- powerful quads, and a bulge between his legs that looked very full and very appealing to the horned-up ballplayer. The guy's model-handsome face, something fiery behind it like a guy out of an ad for tequila, didn't hurt either.
Then Nick saw a second figure emerge from behind him, and his dick jerked hard into his underwear. The second guy was definitely younger but also definitely related to the first guy, same dark brown hair, same intense blue eyes, same powerfully muscled build. It soon clicked in Nick's mind that this was the guy's son, and he'd clearly picked up all the right genes from his old man. The kid was in a tight-fitting shirt that read "BAMA" across the front, jeans and brown sandals below that. It was like a mirror image of the guy Nick had been checking out, only everything was fresher, brighter, dare he say...more innocent.
Nick was ready to nod at the guy as they left and stock both images in his brain for a particularly awesome JO session later tonight when he noticed the guys were stopping.
"How's that whiskey?"
The other two MLBers looked up; of course they hadn't even noticed the guys till then. Even Nick, who had definitely noticed, wasn't expecting to be spoken to, but he was well lubricated enough to flash a smile and answer. "Good stuff. Want a taste?" He winked. The older guy's eyebrows raised and Nick smiled a little wider. Point, Swisher.
"Love one," he replied, taking the glass and a sip. "Oof. Burns so good."
"Look, man," Raburn broke in, "we've obviously had a tough night..."
"Oh, sorry -- bad day at the office?" Nick looked up at him, then over at his teammates. It slowly dawned on each of them that this guy didn't know who they were. He smiled.
"Yeah, you could say that," Nick answered.
"You guys in town on business?" the guy continued, setting the drink down, still looking at Nick.
"Yeah," Raburn laughed. "Been workin' all night."
"I know how that is," said the guy. He stuck out his hand. "I'm Mike." Nick took it readily, appreciating the firm grip as he met the guy's gaze again. "Nick. This your son?" He turned to the kid.
"It shows, huh?" Mike clapped a hand on his son's back, pulling him forward. "Yeah, this is Brad. Just graduated this past spring."
"Alabama?" said Gomes. They all turned to him as he spoke for the first time. Gomes gestured to the kid's shirt.
"Yeah," Brad answered. "That's where we're from." Sure enough, Nick realized, both father and son had a little bit of that famous lilt. As he shook the kid's hand too, Nick felt his dick throb in his jeans...God, he was cute.
"Well, I'm Ryan," Raburn said, holding out his hand. He'd been a little annoyed at the interruption at first, but these guys seemed all right, and they certainly didn't seem to want to talk baseball. After they shook, Yan offered his own name and a shake. Mike and Brad pulled up stools.
"How about I buy you guys a round of this shit?" Nick offered, shaking his glass at Mike. "You don't mind if he drinks, do you?"
"Hell, he's his own man," Mike said. "He lets me know that enough." He looked at Brad and the kid grinned and punched his dad lightly on the chest. Nick swallowed; these guys were pushing all his buttons.
Four rounds of cinnamon whiskey later, not a word about baseball had been uttered and the three Indians had all but forgotten about the game. Mike revealed that they were just in town to visit family, but were headed out the next morning and had decided to splurge on the last night. When Nick commented on the absence of a ring on Mike's finger, Mike gave a wry smile. "I figured everybody fucked around in college...didn't really figure on the consequences." Nick didn't say any more. "But I wouldn't trade this kid for the world." He looked over to where Brad was laughing, tipsy and happy, talking about his days as a walk-on for the Crimson Tide with Raburn and Gomes.
"You guys must be pretty close," Nick commented, his eyes drifting absently over the kid's firm torso, his abs visible under his t-shirt as he leaned back and laughed at something Gomes said.
"Yeah...closer than you'd think." That caught Nick's attention, and he turned back to Mike, who suddenly had a look of irrepressible mischief on his face. He looked like he was barely holding something back, and there was a long pause before he spoke again. "Listen, I got us a suite here. It's pretty sweet, got a well stocked mini bar." He smiled again. "You feel like continuing the party upstairs?"
Nick paused, searching Mike's eyes, then slowly reached out and set his hand on the guy's knee. Brimming with liquid confidence, he slid his fingers up the firmly-muscled thigh till he found the thick, hard ridge in Mike's gray pants. Nick smiled, met his gaze again. "Point the way."
Raburn and Gomes were far enough gone to agree to the change of venue without a second thought, and within ten minutes they'd wrapped up their substantial tab and were chattering down the hallway toward Mike's suite. When he opened up, the other two Indians were fully on board -- for Cleveland, the room was gorgeous. After sufficiently admiring the two spacious rooms, massive entertainment center, and two king beds, Raburn and Gomes suddenly felt the six or seven drinks they'd downed and beelined for the bathroom, followed shortly by Mike's son. He was going to wait his turn but Gomes stuck his head out: "You don't hafta piss?"
"Oh, I was gonna --" Brad stopped as he noticed Raburn and Gomes had already unzipped and started unloading.
"Come on, kid," Raburn called, "we're big boys, no need to be shy." Gomes nodded at him, then popped his head back in. Brad shook his head, but he was already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans. "There he is!" Ryan called as the kid joined them around the commode. "Jesus, kid, if I'd known you were gonna put us to shame, I might not've invited you in." Brad looked down and realized Ryan was openly commenting on his dick.
"Oh," he said. Reflexively he glanced at Raburn's cock -- it definitely wasn't in Brad's league, but it wasn't anything to be ashamed of either. And he couldn't imagine Yan Gomes ever feeling ashamed of the heavy shaft he had swinging between his legs. "I mean, you guys aren't--"
"Kid, I was joking," Raburn said with a grin. He finished up and tucked himself back in his jeans. Brad looked at Gomes, who just rolled his eyes and wrapped up too. Brad shook his head again as the two ballplayers left him pissing alone, glad they had left when they did as his cock swelled. He tried to push it all out of his mind as he stuffed his half-hard prick back in his black briefs. He stumbled out of the bathroom just in time to hear Raburn say, "What the fuck?!"
Brad looked up, startled, then smiled broadly as he saw what had elicited that reaction. Oh, man, he thought to himself. Here we fuckin' go.
The cute, scruffy one who'd been hitting on his dad all night -- Nick, he remembered -- was just pulling his lips from his dad's when he walked in, but Nick's hand was still steadily groping his dad's dick through his pants. The kiss must have been pretty fucking intense -- his dad looked as turned on as he'd ever seen him, and that cock was at its full, hard eight and a half inches. But Nick was calm as he pulled away, his hand giving Brad's dad a little squeeze before letting go.
"Hey, bro," Swisher said, his voice as easygoing as if Raburn had just walked in on him playing video games. He took a couple steps toward his teammate, his hands up disarmingly. "Everything's cool, man, just relax." Ryan sputtered but said nothing. Beside him Gomes was just staring, eyes wide, mouth dropped slightly open. "We been havin' fun with these guys all night...you're a smart dude...what'd you think we were comin' up here for?"
Raburn struggled for words. "I didn't..I mean --"
"It's fine, dude," Nick said. He was a couple steps closer now. Raburn stared wildly into his teammate's eyes, but his feet were planted to the ground. "Just..." Swisher was upon him, one hand on his arm, the other on his shoulder. His voice was soothing, his grip calming, subduing. "...relax."
"Fuck," Gomes whispered as he watched Nick Swisher lean in and kiss Ryan Raburn. Swisher was still confident despite the obvious danger, and when Raburn didn't push him away, his fingers slipped southward.
"Hmmhh," Nick smiled into the kiss as he found Raburn's erection under his jeans and gripped it tight. Fuck, Raburn was even bigger than he'd thought. As he squeezed the thick mass of the infielder's cock and worked up to the head, Raburn sucked in a sharp breath and suddenly was kissing Nick back even harder and hungrier.
"Fuck!" Gomes said, louder. He looked away in disbelief, but the outburst had drawn Nick's attention. He broke from Raburn, leaving his teammate stunned and hard as a rock, and walked toward the Cleveland catcher. But the Brazilian wasn't quite drunk enough for this shit yet -- he backed away, shaking his head more emphatically this time.
"Dude, I...I can't..."
"Really, Gomes?" Nick wore a lighthearted grin, but deep inside he knew he wanted his teammate bad. "I thought Brazilians were supposed to be open about sex." He reached out again, but Yan backed away.
"Yeah, we are, but..."
"Maybe I can help." Mike, the guy who'd started this all, was up off the wall and looking good-naturedly at them. "Brad sometimes gets a little shy around new guys too...why don't you start with him?"
Gomes was about to object that he wasn't going to "start with" anybody who had a dick, but when he turned to Brad he found himself swallowing his reply. The kid looked embarrassed -- small wonder, since his dad had basically just revealed to three strangers that they fucked around together. But there was also a hint of something else in the young jock's eyes that appealed to something deep inside Yan Gomes, and he was unable to let his eyes flicker down just as the kid wrapped his hand around his cock, all 9 inches now aching into his jeans, and squeezed it between his thumb and fingers a few times. When Gomes looked back up, Brad's intense blue eyes were staring deep into him.
The catcher held still a moment, his breath caught in his lungs. He didn't move forward, but slowly lifted his hand from his side. Brad's eyes followed and a smile slowly crossed the kid's face as Gomes' fingers found the swelling rise in his own jeans, the fat length of Gomes' cock becoming thicker and fuller with each pounding heartbeat. Gomes gave it the slightest squeeze.
The kid moved forward.
Gomes' resistance had vanished in a cloud of whiskey and the confidence of a 21-year-old football jock who always gets what he wants. Brad put both hands on the catcher's sides and leaned in, stopping with his lips just a couple inches from Gomes'. "Kiss me, man," he murmured. And Gomes did, pressing his lips to the kid's, feeling a strength behind the kiss that he'd never felt before. Then he closed his eyes, the kiss deepened. Brad's hand was suddenly on Gomes' dick, rubbing him through his jeans, then tugging his belt off and unbuttoning those jeans and plunging his hand into Gomes' pants to wrap firm, powerful fingers around his now hard-swollen cock, making him gasp into kid's soft lips. He felt Brad grab his own hand and pull it toward him, then felt the hard length of Brad's dick too, thick and hungry and just fucking big, just like Raburn had pointed out...wait, where the fuck was Raburn?
Gomes turned his head, dizzy with whiskey and lust; Brad adjusted by kissing and licking the sharp line of his jaw and neck and moving Gomes' hand up to feel the tight definition of Brad's stomach through his t-shirt. Through the haze, Gomes could almost see his buddy and teammate Ryan Raburn kissing the other dude -- this kid's dad, Gomes thought in amazement. But then his hands slipped under Brad's shirt and found the hard expanse of muscle rising from his abs up over his thick pecs, and fuck but Yan had never realized just how fucking good a hard body like this one could feel beneath his fingers.
Then the kid's lips were gone from his, and he was about to protest, when those lips reappeared in a much, much better place. Gomes let out an unrestrained groan of pleasure as Brad licked up the length of his hard prick, then slid the catcher's cock deep into his throat. Jesus, this jock knew how to suck dick. And he sure as fuck seemed to like it, too, Gomes thought as he felt his hard prick bottom out in the kid's throat. "Unghhh...fuck yeah."
The noise must have been louder than he thought, because it wasn't ten seconds more before Gomes felt a hand on his arm from behind, hot breath on his neck. "See, Gomes...this ain't so bad." Swisher was kissing his neck now, sucking on the cinnamon-brown skin. He let Nick's hands move over his own hard chest and stomach, then lift his t-shirt up and off. Fuck, but Nick knew how to make him feel good, too...damn good, in fact, so good he didn't even realize at first that Swish was grinding his hard dick against Gomes' tight ass.
"Fuck, Swish," Yan growled, "what are you doin', man?"
"Just relax, Gomes..." came that smooth voice again, and the gorgeous kid sucking his dick was making him feel good enough to listen to it. What Swisher was doing was pulling Gomes' underwear down over his incredible ass, that perfect, round ass that Swisher had admired from the dugout dozens of times, massaging the muscular bulges of the catcher's tight butt, then letting his hard 7 inches drag over Gomes' ass to slip between the two firm cheeks.
"What...what are you.."
Swisher breathed out slowly, feeling the incredible friction of Gomes' tight ass against his dick. "Relax, bro..." he murmured. Not in a million years would Swish have imagined that Gomes would let him take it this far, even after he watched the young catcher making out hot and heavy with that perfect jock kid. Yet as he kept stroking Gomes' pecs and stomach, and his hard prick slipped deeper and deeper between those thick mountains of muscle, he felt the catcher slowly, almost imperceptibly, lean forward.
"Fuck, Swish." He felt Nick's cock slip aside momentarily, then a cool, wet pressure and an intense sensation in a place he'd never, ever fucking felt before. "Oh, fuck..." Then suddenly the insistent presence of Nick's hard cock was back, and Yan felt himself grabbing the stud Bama jock's muscular shoulders tight, gripping the powerful bulges of his traps and delts. "Unghhh...fuck..."
Not a minute and a half later, across the hotel suite, the deep moans of pleasure now slipping steadily from Yan Gomes' open mouth reached through the haze to his teammate Ryan Raburn. Raburn's eyes cracked open a slit.
"Oh, shit..." I must be wasted...fucking blitzed, Raburn thought. Because what this hardened ballplayer thought he saw was Nick Swisher pumping his thick, hard-swollen cock deep into Yan Gomes' perfect, untouched MLB jock ass. And there was no way--
"Fuck me, Swish!"
Raburn swallowed hard. OK, that sounded real enough. But if this was real, if he wasn't drunk and hallucinating and imagining all this for God knows what reason, that had to mean...
"Fuck, you're tight, buddy." Mike's voice was quiet but intense as he fucked Ryan Raburn, loving the feel of this stud's perfect 6-foot, 185-pound body, corded with muscle, taut and ripped. Raburn was taking his first fuck well -- in fact, as Mike let his hand trail down from Ryan's stomach he found the younger guy's dick throbbing hard into the air, already dripping pre-come as Mike drove deep inside him over and over.
"Jesus..." Raburn groaned. "God, never thought...feels so fuckin' good..." And it did, it felt fucking amazing to feel this stud's fat cock inside him, driving strength and power into his cock like nothing he'd ever felt before. Then Gomes' voice cut through the haze again, a louder, deeper moan as the hot Brazilian came harder than he'd ever come before down Brad's throat, and Swisher was groaning too, thrusting one last time deep into his teammate's tight jock cunt. Raburn was fucking finished. He felt Mike drive home again just as the stud dad jerked his hand firmly up Raburn's swollen prick, and he clenched his eyes and came with a gasping moan, the biggest fucking load he'd ever shot pumped out of his cock by his first hard fuck.
Six hours later, Mike was dressed and on his way out the door, perfectly put together in a slim-fit Brooks Brothers dress shirt, crisp blue tie and gray slacks, all of which accentuated his trim, muscular build. He handed the room key to Nick as he grabbed his suitcase, pausing before he leaned in and kissed Swish deep one more time.
"You sure you don't want to stick around?" Nick said. He bit his lower lip as Mike groped his hard prick, still loving the feel of the stud's firm grip.
Mike grinned. "Love to, bud, but I got a meeting this afternoon, and I'm afraid this...ain't exactly the kind of excuse a hundred-million-dollar client wants to hear." He glanced over Nick's shoulder. On one of the wide king beds, his son Brad was roughly fucking Ryan Raburn, his 9-inch cock pistoning in and out of Raburn's still-tight ass, Raburn's own hard dick slapping against his abs as he reached up to run his hands over Brad's own ripped midsection. Behind him, Yan Gomes had driven his own thick cock into Brad's perfect ass and was kissing and licking at the football jock's shoulder as he fucked the Alabama stud. "Won't say it's not tempting, though." He opened the door. "Feel free to stay another night on me -- I know Brad won't mind spending some more time with you guys. Besides, I thought you could use a little pick-up after last night." Mike pulled something from his pocket and handed it to Nick, then winked and walked out.
Swish looked down. "I'll be damned," he muttered. In his hand were two ticket stubs for the AL wild card game, right behind home plate.
"Comin' back, Swish?" He turned to see Gomes loping toward him, dick bouncing against his stomach. "These guys say they're done, but..." The Indians catcher, who never took a second look at a dude till last night, smiled as he grabbed Swisher's cock in one hand and took his teammate's head in the other, kissing Swisher slow and deep. "...thought we might go one more time." He looked down at the paper in Nick's hand. "What's that?"
"I'll tell ya later," Nick said. He flashed that trademark grin, then shoved Yan back toward the bedroom.
http://binaryapi.ap.org/9c41b7e6ab274b669e3baf72176a1d94/512x.jpg (Raburn) https://s3-us-west-2.amazonaws.com/fancloud/img/9994/5637/ryan_raburn_22_large.jpg (Raburn) http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Nick+Swisher+Cleveland+Indians+v+Detroit+Tigers+v2RQtfaIaj3l.jpg (Swisher) http://bronxbaseballdaily.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/844px-Nick_Swisher-540x353.jpg (Swisher) http://blogimages.thescore.com/djf/files/2013/09/yangomes.jpg (Gomes) http://www3.pictures.zimbio.com/gi/Yan+Gomes+Cleveland+Indians+v+Houston+Astros+l-0u7sG13eol.jpg (Gomes)