By ty dehner
The curve is so natural, the tightness of the pants covering his ass, as it meets the heels of his cleats. His weight falls as he squats, the black plastic on his legs and knees creaks with his movement. His fist pounds the leather-padded glove on his hand, then hides behind the black padding protecting his chest. The face hugged in leather and iron, watching the speeding object coming straight for him. He faces it, it is his job, he is a baseball catcher.
The baseball catcher is the one man on the team that makes my dick hard, and my blood flow. i’ve been watching them for most of my youth until i made it to the big leagues! Growing up in Wheeler County, Nebraska, i went to as many balls games as i could. If i arrived early, i would take my place close to the home plate, not to watch the batter, but to watch that catcher. In high school, as i discovered i was gay and started to venture into sex with other guys, i dreamed of doing with a baseball jock. Four weeks before graduation that happened and i never looked back. i knew then that i would be closer to these guys, yet i was never talented enough to make the team. And working in the fields of my parent farm didn’t help.
