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Thread: The Pitcher

  1. #1
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    The Pitcher

    My first introduction to the dominance-submission dynamic occurred in my early adulthood, in a way that caught me completely by surprise, and took me by storm. I think it caught me off-guard because it arose from a situation that had nothing overtly sexual about it.

    I was in the minor leagues in my 20th year, in some forgettable section of the country. We were the visiting team. I don't know why, but during warmups I looked at the opponents' pitcher, and he immediately struck me as extremely hot. There was something inscrutable, mechanical, about the way he pitched. I would see his green ball cap visor tilt down, then tilt back up, and he'd deliver the ball. He was a real baby face, I doubted if he could even shave yet. He showed no emotion, no reaction, no smile, frown or grimace. More importantly for the game, I could get no clue from his windup where he would throw the ball.

    When I faced him the first time, I was strangely smitten by his beauty. He sized me up, I noticed the tip of his visor hat, and he threw a fast ball in the center of the strike zone, before I was ready.

    OK, kid, you got one past me. But it turned out that he completely baffled me, and struck me out with ease. And he struck me out every time I went to bat. I got flustered dealing with my feelings of attraction, and hate, because he seemed to know exactly how to show me up. Generally, he was having a good game, and especially against me. I got the strange sense he knew that he got me flustered, and used it against me.

    After we lost the game, I uncharacteristically took a walk past the other team's locker rooms, not knowing why. I walked around a corner into a passage shielded from public view.

    Then I saw him. The pitcher, standing there, giving no sign he even saw me, though we were the only two people in this space. I walked up to him, and stood in front of him, not knowing what to say, maybe something stupid like "great game!"

    Instead I could say nothing. Then he looked at me, with the visor of the ball cap dipping slightly down, and slightly back up, just like he was sizing up a batter. He knew he had beat me on the field, and I know I had lost to him. I could do nothing but wait for the pitch.

    He pulled his erect penis above the waistline of his pants, and the message was unmistakeable: I beat you, you suck my dick.

    I knelt down, and felt the head of the pitcher's penis enter my mouth. I started sucking him off. He dominated me on the diamond, and he was entitled to the best blow job I could deliver. I undid the belt, and let his cock spring free, as I sucked his hot, sweaty member. I reached down for his balls, only to find them protected by a hard plastic pitcher's cup. I pulled his sweaty balls out of the cup, and kissed and suckled them. I stuck my tongue into the cup, and smelled and licked the inside of the cup, savoring the taste of his ball sweat.

    Then I continued sucking his cock, while playing with his balls. I felt no rush, so I took my time giving this boy the best sucking he ever had.

    I could feel his cock twitching, and he gave me the pitch-- he shot hot cum in my mouth. I swallowed unhurriedly but strongly, as he emptied his baseball pitcher semen in my mouth.

    When we were finished, the pitcher pulled his balls back into the plastic cup, and then tucked his now-satisfied and shrinking penis in there as well. He fastened his pants, as I got up off my knees.

    I waited for what would happen next. But the pitcher just walked by me, as if I wasn't there, toward the home team lockers. I, for one, walked back to the field. I happened to to pick up a program left by someone in the stands. I looked up the pitcher's name, stats, etc.

    To my surprise, he was the same age I was. His name was Andrew Echols. And his pitcher stats weren't spectacular, in fact rather average, even for this league.

    Then I went back to the visitor's lockers, took my shower, and hopped on the old, rundown team bus. We drove back to the home team town for several hours late at night. Everyone was asleep, even the team manager snoozing next to me, so I slipped my hand into my pants, and slowly, quietly, rubbed one out, thinking about how that pitcher had humiliated me, and how I willingly submitted to him and rewarded him for it by sucking him off. I shot my load in my pants, and then fell asleep, lost in this dominance-submission game I had played with the pitcher.
    Last edited by Araucaria; November 13th, 2018 at 05:49 PM. Reason: typographical error

  2. #2
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    Jun 2012

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    Re: The Pitcher

    Thanks for writing this. Great story.

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