This was Paul, my friend, my best friend. I smiled at him, quickly exhaling through my nose and trying to muster a nervous laugh.“What are we going ...o--”I stopped his sentence in its tracks, muffling Paul’s question with my lips. As I realized what I had done, I stepped forward, grabbing him around the waist and pulling him closer to me. I felt the warmth of his skin touching mine, the hardness of his cock pressed against the crotch of my jeans. My hands were everywhere, rubbing up the length. That, alone, gave me some encouragement. Enough, at least, to try it again the next night.I went two for five -- a single and a smash double that might have been a three-bagger if I hadn't been spending so much time standing at the plate, admiring the ball's flight into deep right-centerfield.Hoo-boy! Maybe the slump was over.It was! We went into Yankee Stadium for the three-game weekend series and I tore things up there pretty good. It's always especially gratifying when you play well against. More

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