We rode home in relative silence even though our team had won the game 9 to 3. As usual, Aaron had been the star, going 3 for 4 at the plate, including a three run homer.

It was the middle of July. Hot and humid, Aaron's uniform bore the sweat and dirt stains of his active playing style. My uniform was still as clean as when I had put it on four hours earlier. With my tremendous athletic prowess, I had spent yet another game riding the pine, cheering on my teammates in their drive for a fourth consecutive first place finish in our summer baseball league.

After the game there were the usual cheers and handshakes, the phony congratulations from the opposing team. Most of our guys were headed out for burgers, but Aaron was eager to get back to his house where I would display my prowess. Aaron was a star ballplayer. My talents lay in a different area.

I had watched him as we got to his car, his flannel shirt already peeled off to reveal his broad muscular chest under his sweaty blue tee shirt. Partially hidden behind the open car door, he had undone his blue webbed belt and reached down the front of his pants to remove his nut cup. His face twisted in exaggerated pain as he contorted his body to extricate the large plastic cup that cradled his oversized genitalia. How I envied that big yellow cup! I too wanted to spend hour after hour wrapped up tight against his cock and balls, moving with him, almost a part of him. He sighed in relief as the pointy bottom tip of the cup slid up over his balls and he pulled the cup free in mock triumph. He threw it casually into the back seat along with his shirt and spikes.

He redid the front of his pants, pushing and prodding a bit to reposition his genitals, free of their hard plastic shell but still encased in elastic. The bulge in his crotch didn't really change all that much in size, even after the cup was gone. I had studied the situation and determined that Aaron had the largest set of equipment on the team. He would have been my friend even if that wasn't the case. But it was. And I was glad.

Back home, we said 'hi' to his parents before locking ourselves in his bedroom. He grinned at me. "You want it bad, don'cha?"

I looked back at him. He knew me well enough to know the answer without ever asking the question.

"Well come and get it, Danny." He stood there facing me. Just stood there. I didn't say a word, but dropped to my knees there on the carpet in front of him. He liked it best like that. Him standing and me kneeling. He wanted me to undress him, to prove how much I wanted his youthful athletic body. My hands, no longer under the control of my brain, reached up to caress the manly bulge under his zipper.

My eyes searched his face for a sign that he liked what I was doing. He looked down at me, the slightest smile spreading across his lips as he relaxed his body, making himself open and available for me to do as I liked. My hands made their way up to his belt, tugging it, shifting it, feeling it fall open under my grip.

Snap! The button on his pants is open.

Zip! His gold uniform pants V out around the bulge in his dark blue compression shorts. I try to slide his uniform pants down over the smooth fabric of his undershorts, but they are damp and I must peel them off inch by inch. The elastic cuffs grip his legs just below his knees to expose his shapely calves under his navy blue stockings. The gold colored pants finally give way and fall to his ankles in a heap.

We have both kicked off our sport sandals upon entering the room, and he now lifts each foot in turn as I disentangle him from his pants. I lean in to mouth the lump in his navy blue slider shorts, rubbing my hand over the shiny fabric encasing his absolutely perfect ass. I'm so eager I can't wait.

He finches back, ever so slightly, at the first caress. The damp undershorts magnify the touch of my fingertips, and he knows how good it will feel in just a few seconds.

I always get a kick out of how his shorts strike just above his knee and his stockings end just at his knees, exposing only a few inches of bare leg. Still mouthing his soft bulge, I push down his stockings and leave them bunched around his ankles while I start to work on his shorts.

They are so tight! I lift the tail of his tee shirt and finally manage to slip a single finger under the waistband at the small of his back. Tugging the elastic band back a bit, I slide in both my thumbs and pull them around his waist, loosening the iron grip of his shorts. I can feel the broad waistband of his jockstrap underneath, and it excites me.

My prick, already hard, juts forward into the pouch of my jock. No longer worried about getting into the game, I gave up wearing a cup and sliding shorts weeks ago. As soon as I have Aaron's shorts down, I will rearrange myself into a more comfortable position.

Aaron's dark blue shorts reluctantly pull away from his beautifully sculpted thighs and hips. I must tug the front of the padded shorts way out to clear the hurdle formed under the pouch of his jockstrap. Finally the spandex stretches far enough to free the slave and his shorts turn inside out as I work them further down his legs. They are completely upside down as my hands reach his ankles. The leg openings have not moved from above his knees.

Familiar with this puzzle, I move my hands back up his legs and push the leg holes over his knees, collapsing the garment into a soft pile between his feet. Sheepishly, he grins at me as he again shuffles his feet in the familiar dance that allows me to remove his stockings and undershorts in a single sweep down either leg.

Aaron is standing in front of me wearing nothing but his jockstrap and a smile. While I was busy with his shorts and socks, he has skinned off his tee shirt. I study the layer of dark blond hair spread across his chest, tapering down to his navel before widening again into a happy trail that disappears into his jock. He is as anxious as me to get on with it. His cock, somehow miraculously not hard yet, hangs fat and heavy in the pouch of his strap. I pause a moment to burn this image of Aaron into my memory for recall tonight when I am in bed, alone. He sort of shakes his hand a bit, a gentle reminder to me to get busy.

The shaft of his cock is about six inches long like this, still pliant but ready to stiffen up at the next touch. It has displaced his right testicle, hiding it sort of under and behind the left one. The beefy mushroom head of his circumcised cock is buried way down underneath his balls, barely contained in the last two inches of the triangular pouch where it meets the leg straps. It must pinch like hell when he squeezes his legs together!

His pouch is stretched wide, struggling to contain the bounty of his manhood. It is a cocksucker's dream to behold his god-like body. I am in heaven.

My left hand drops into my lap, pinching and prodding at my hard prick, teasing it and pleasing it as I struggle not to bring myself off instantly. My right hand has found its way to the side of his pouch where it is squeezing him, gently coaxing the shy head of his prick out from under his balls into a more accessible position.

Aaron closes his eyes and turns his face upward, away from me. He groans with pleasure and his hips flex involuntarily toward me. It is time. If I play with him anymore, even a single touch, he will get hard, and I want him in my mouth when that happens.

With a practiced hand, I place my thumb and forefinger under the side of his jock pouch and in a single motion stretch the edge up and over his cock and balls, exposing everything. His prick falls forward, hanging away from his body all bloated and full, though not yet stiff. His balls dangle free, perilously exposed from all directions. They hang low in their sac, hot as coals, eager to dispense their liquid lust.

I look up at his face again, and he is looking back at me. His hands are both at the back of my head as he gently guides my mouth toward its target. His loins quiver ever so slightly as I make first contact, bare lips to bare flesh.

I dip down to scoop up the bloated head of his prick in my mouth and get it on the first try. I lift my head and pull up on his cock at the same time. I gulp down as much of the semi-hard prick as I can, taking in perhaps five inches of it before clamping down and sucking tightly on it. It throbs as the blood rushes in, engorging it with desire, enlarging it beyond all reasonableness. I lose a full inch in a single throb as it starts to max out. Sucking as tight and as hard as I can, I still lose another half inch.

It has grown so fat around that my jaw is already starting to ache. The head of it is pressed back into my throat, causing me to gag a bit at the sudden intrusion. I let another inch slip out and am now comfortable with it again. Roughly half of it is now in my mouth, maybe four inches. Another four inches fills the gap between Aaron's torso and my lips.

He is firmly holding my head in position as his hips bump and grind in the age-old dance of man's desire. Even without his hands holding my head in place, I would never dream of moving it. I have only a single desire of my own at this point: to feel Aaron's cum squirt into my mouth, feeding me the mega dose of his hot spunk that has become a regular part of my diet this summer.

My left hand has managed to undo my zipper and has slipped inside my uniform pants to fondle my five-inch erection, still trapped in my regulation jock. I am as hard as hard can be, and I know that I have oozed enough lube to stain the pouch. Reluctantly, I force my hand away from my own needs and wrap both of my hands around Aaron's waist and asscheeks. It is a perfect fit. My hands make their way stealthily back, prying his ass apart, allowing my fingertips into the hidden and forbidden valley of his butt.

He is quivering now, getting closer all the time. I use my hands to steady him a bit, and back off the suction for a few seconds. Doing this with Aaron is so damn good. I want it to never stop. But forces beyond my control drive me forward.

My right hand slides around his bubble butt just a fraction of an inch further, and the tip of my middle finger makes contact with his rose bud. He flinches at my touch and a soft moan escapes his lips. He thrusts suddenly forward, ramming an extra inch of hard cock into my mouth. My jaw is sore but I can't stop. I'm addicted to Aaron's cock and it's been too long since my last fix. Four days.

With nothing but sweat to grease the way, I can only slip my finger in as far as the first knuckle. But that is far enough. I slowly slide it in and out, fucking his ass with my fingertip. He will tell me later that he doesn't like this, even though his butt grinds backward to meet it every time before pile driving forward and ramming his cock back into my mouth. Aaron is putty in my hands. I can control him with the slightest movement of my hands or mouth. I swoop in for the kill.

My left hand slides from his beautifully shaped asscheek to wrap around his right thigh. I grasp his dangling balls from behind. Holding them like a sponge, I lightly squeeze them, feeling their heaviness in my palm, enclosing their warmth in my fingertips. As my hand closes, Aaron sort of jumps in place and at the same instant, his cock throbs and gets so hard it scares me. I release his nuts and wait a few seconds before giving them another light squeeze.

Aaron grunts and lurches forward. He is over the edge now, a massive orgasm building from the base of his spine and hurtling upward through his body making him lightheaded and dizzy, forcing every ounce of his being to concentrate in his genitals before exploding into my eagerly waiting mouth. I wait for two beats before squeezing his balls again. At the same instant I drive my fingertip as deeply into his ass as I can, and suck as hard as I can on his cock.

The effect is pure perfection. Aaron's body is no longer under his control. He bucks back and forth spastically, fucking the living daylights out of my mouth. I back up to better enjoy the explosion, allowing just two inches of him to remain within me.

An overeager trickle arrives first, a half dozen droplets of lube caught in the pipeline ahead of the mother lode. They sprinkle my tongue like an appetizer, teasing me for a second or two while Aaron's prick swells and then delivers my salty main course. The first shot is so powerful it almost hurts. It squirts hard and deep against the back of my throat, choking me, cutting off my air supply for a few seconds before dripping off the roof of my mouth and into my gullet. It is a feeling that took some getting used to the first few times it happened.

I try to hold still while I recover from the initial blast, but Aaron has other ideas. He backs his prick out until the just the head is still in my mouth and two throbs later he again thrusts forward to deliver a second spurt, maybe half as strong, half as big as the first.

All this takes place amidst much grunting and heaving, as my partner's animal instincts take over and leave the teenaged body of their keeper far behind. I have about a quarter cup of cum and spittle in my mouth now and I would like to swallow it away but know that I don't have time before the third wave will arrive.

As before, my grateful sperm donor backs out, waits two heartbeats, and thrusts forward again. This time, with the bulk of the load already spent, he barely hits the back of my throat. Still, a goodly amount of cum gushes from the tip of his prick, adding its bulk to what I already hold in my mouth. Cum trickles from the corners of my mouth. I know it is useless to try and contain it all.

Aaron is calming down a bit. He no longer thrusts in and out violently, but gently rocks back and forth, sawing two to three inches of his still steely hard prick over my lips and into the warm cavern of my mouth. His animal grunts have given way to soft, contented moans of pleasure.

Every two to three beats his cock dribbles out some more cum, splashing against my tongue at first, then merely dripping onto it. He slows and then stops sawing in and out and I can now twirl my tongue around his prick head, dipping at the sensitive slit in its tip to coax out the last flavorful bit of his warm seed.

My left hand no longer squeezes his balls. Experience had taught me that if I squeeze him once too often he can't stand the intensity of the pleasure and he will dance right out of my mouth and hands, squirting cum like a fire hose all over the room. Three times I have made this mistake, although it is great fun to watch. If I didn't love the feel of him cumming in my mouth so darn much I'd do it a fourth time, too.

My left hand had found its way to my own crotch, where, with a few well-practiced strokes, I have caught up to my friend and shared the orgasmic experience with him. My jockstrap bears the massive stain of my own eruption, and caught tight in the snug elastic pouch, my five-inch prick is still standing upright.

Aaron's prick is slowly wilting now. It grows soft and rubbery despite my best efforts to keep it hard. In ten minutes he will be ready to start again. I know this for a fact. He finally withdraws himself from between my lips. I swallow the still hefty load in my mouth and lean forward to suckle him clean. It is a long, slow, single stroke, and I suck so hard that his limp prick vibrates as it comes out. He paws at my face, batting me away from his oversensitive cockhead.

I smile up at him. He is, at the moment, disgusted with himself for letting me do what I just did; for allowing himself to do what he just did. He bends backward, and with his left hand, spans out his thumb and forefinger before diving them under the edge of his jock pouch and in a single fluid motion pulling it back in place over his genitalia, restoring his modesty.

Aaron is standing in front of me wearing nothing but his jockstrap and a scowl. His body is six feet of sheer perfection. 170 pounds of solid muscle. Short, brownish blond hair, twinkling green eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of his nose.

Aaron is 18, the same as me. He thinks he is straight. In about ten minutes he will, somewhat reluctantly, be ready to do it again.

I can't wait.