So don't worry about Alex," Jeff told Mitchell. "Assuming he doesn't flub his audition by taking a dump on my chest, he'll be there. But we still don't know shit about your supposed stud baseball player..."
The three of us were in the hot tub working out the logistics for recruiting and auditioning talent for my going away (probably to prison) party on Sunday evening, which was now to ambitiously feature a six jock on coach train, bumped up from the previously envisioned anemic five jock train. Jeff and I had been bringing Mitchell, our new master logistician, up to speed on the scheduling nightmare we hadn't been able to solve.
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"If I could interrupt you guys for a moment," I interrupted, "this stuff about Alex and Mr. Baseball is just part of our logistical problem, Mitchell. And I'm not being critical of Jeff when I say this, but Jeff wants to check out each prospect personally, like he just mentioned auditioning Alex, and I think, though he hasn't quite said this, that he then envisions working in a three way with each prospect, or some of them, anyway, before the Sunday train leaves the station."
"Well, that's ridiculous," Mitchell announced, "there's not nearly enough time for...wait a minute...so I was being vetted this morning? That was like a fucking audition?"
"Not by me, you weren't," Jeff replied, "other than me proving to Coach what goddamn good taste I have in guys. Dude, you were fucking FIRST, ahead of Landen, who's breaking my balls to get some QT with Coach, you were ahead of Dewey...how much higher on my list than No.1 do you have to be? And can I point out that it was Coach's idea for you to not only spend the night tonight but stay over all weekend? I mean, I think he kind of has a crush on you...it's kinda cute...just sayin.'"
"Coach, you really want me to stay here all weekend?" Mitchell asked in surprise. I hid my own surprise at Jeff's spur of the moment expanded invitation pretty well, and the truth was I had already been getting worried that I wasn't going to get nearly as much of Mitchell's huge cock and tight pink hole as I wanted. Extending Mitchell through the weekend just made sense.
"Mitchell, I'd tell you that I never, ever want you to leave my house again," I said, "if I weren't absolutely going to stop molesting my players and 'students attached to the team in any capacity,' and any stray baseball players, not later than Monday morning. So, yeah, please stay until then."
"OK, so Coach needs to fuck Landen and Dewey," Mitchell noted, finally putting his fine mind to work on our problem, "and you, and maybe me, need to check out Alex...plus one of you, Jeff I suppose, needs to meet my baseball stud dream boat...Coach, you probably at least know who he is, Finn M_____, that big fucking blond kid who played first base this spring?"
"That fucking hunk is queer? a homo, I mean?" I asked, my cock throbbing at the mere thought of undressing that guy. Jesus Christ, he was, in looks and clothed, anyway, every bit as gorgeous as Jeff, just the platinum blond version. Maybe I could help coach the baseball team in the spring.
Seriously, if I wasn't in jail by the coming spring, I probably could be a volunteer assistant, because the baseball program had no dedicated full time assistant coaches. I'd been a two sport small college jock, and could see myself running BP and infield drills on lazy spring afternoons as a cover for my real position - volunteer assistant locker room monitor. I loved the way baseball players filled out their tight white pants, with their larger than life artificial bulges, and I would love even more watching a whole new set of athletic studs peeling off those tight whites and cup filled jockstraps...and hitting the showers.
"I can't say for sure that he's 100% homo like us," Mitchell conceded, "but he and I have done plenty of queer shit together...only Finn doesn't fuck girls just for show, he actually likes fucking them, too. So no, he's not 100% homo..."
"Eeewwww, girls!" Jeff said, laughing. "So exactly what kind of nasty boy 'plenty of queer shit' have you and that blond girl fucker done together?" Was there a hint of jealousy in Jeff's voice?
"Jacking each other off, blowjobs, you know, the usual," Mitchell replied. "I'm the baseball manager, too, you know, and it's kinda funny, we got to be friends last spring the same way you and I did this summer, you know, him checking me out while I was taking a leak in the locker room, like you did, except he was a lot more direct. We're standing there whizzing together, his eyes zeroed in on my cock, I'm checking him out, too, but maybe not so obvious, and Finn says, 'Maybe you could help me out, Mitchell, I'm new here, you know, so I was wondering if you could point out a couple of guys who'd get into another dude sucking their cocks? And be willing to return the favor?'"
"What a ballsy fucking line," Jeff commented. "I'm stealing it. So, what'd you say?"
"Well, I was through pissing by then, but I just kept standing there with my dick hanging out, and I said, 'Players, no, but I hear the manager sucks cock.' So we took turns blowing each other in his car right after practice that day, and a bunch of other times, too...and we'd give each other hand jobs all over the school...it was kind of like a game...like I'd sit on the back row during study hall and he'd come sit beside me, unzip me and jack me off...I followed him into a restroom and jacked him off in the urinal...that time was probably the closest we ever came to getting caught, when a bunch of guys came in just as he was nutting. He caught me once in the library, shit like that. The object was kind of to push the envelope, if you know what I mean."
"Does Goldilocks swallow?" Jeff asked. "And, by the way, I'd play that fucking game with you anytime."
"Fuck yeah he swallows," Mitchell replied, "and I'd play that game with you, too." Jesus, those two were going to be jacking each other off in quasi-public places all fall.
"All that shit is pretty queer, I grant you," Jeff conceded. "But you guys never fucked, huh? Why not? Does Girl fucker not fuck boys, too?"
"I know he has before, or said he had, but I don't how much experience he has. I do know that he really wanted to fuck me. Back then, though, I wasn't taking it up the ass yet...I wanted to fuck him, too, but he wasn't interested in anything anal except for topping me...our deal kind of fell apart when school ended, though not on unfriendly terms. Maybe he found somebody to fuck this summer? I don't know."
"What about his cock?" Jeff asked. Thankfully, finally, I thought. I was dying to hear about what was inside the first baseman's cup, but hadn't wanted to out myself as a shallow old geezer who only cares about superficial, inconsequential shit like cock size.
"I loved the way it tasted, his cum, too," Mitchell replied.
"No, doofus," Jeff demanded, "how BIG is his dick?"
"Fuck, I don't know," Mitchell said, "I mean, fuck he's got a nice fat meaty uncut dick...but inches? Not as big as me."
"Duh," Jeff said, "nobody's dick is as big as yours, Mitchell. As big as me or Dewey? Landen? Sam?"
"Possibly as big as you hard, not as thick as you soft or hard, thicker than Landen soft, obviously I've never seen Landen hard, bigger and thicker than Sam hard or soft, and I've always thought Sam has plenty of dick. You know, come to think of it, Finn's very comparable to Coach, soft and hard. And I loved playing with his foreskin. I don't know why my parents had mine clipped off."
"Probably to keep you from masturbating so much when you got older," Jeff quipped, "but it obviously didn't work."
"Pubic hair...blond?" I couldn't help myself from asking.
"Platinum," Mitchell said. I moaned.
"Fuck, Coach," Jeff said, "I'd have dyed my pubes if I'd only known."
"You'll do as is," I assured him, "but it sounds like we need to arrange an interview with Finn ASAP."
