Page 12 of Sensation Fantasies 3
“Next time?” I questioned. I didn’t know how Sensation worked other than you had to pay money to be a member.
“Come next month, and I’ll show you my room upstairs.”
I glanced at the mansion in the distance.
Vaughn had a room?
CHAPTER SIX
Vaughn
Inever thought that I would be looking up baseball stats, but I was—more specifically, Slate’s stats. I didn’t know his last name, but with one search on the internet, I learned that he was Slate Rogers, twenty-six, and played center field for the Arizona Diamondbacks. He also had a list of awards that I knew nothing about, but I still found them—and him—impressive.
It also excited me to know that I was the first guy to suck his dick. Hell, I was the first man to kiss him. I’d never been with a virgin before—not even for my first gay experience—but I liked the fact that Slate was one. I wanted to show himeverythingand learn what he liked together. I wanted to lick every inch of him to find out what made him whimper and moan and come so hard that it would choke me. Just the thought of him shooting his cum down my throat was making me hard.
I needed to know when I would see him again, but I had no way of contacting him. After we walked back into the mansion, we’d grabbed a drink and talked outside near the pool until his friend found him. We didn’t exchange numbers because that wasn’t how Sensation worked. At least not the first night you were with someone.
I remembered that Arizona was on our list of locations for singing the national anthem, and therefore, I pulled up the Diamondback’s schedule. They played a game almost every day, and it seemed as though they had home games a lot, which made sense, but it didn’t answer my question.
As I stared at the baseball schedule, it was unclear what stadiums they’d be playing at, and the only time I knew for sure I’d see Slate would be at his own stadium in Phoenix.
I sent a text to our manager, Kathryn:When do we go to Arizona?
Kat texted back a few moments later with all the dates, and I scanned the schedule to see that nothing synced up with the tour except the day we were in Phoenix. We were performing in Oakland two days before they would arrive to play the Athletics. By then, we would already be in San Diego.
However, I smiled when I saw that the night of the next Sensation party, they were playing the Dodgers, and that made me hopeful that Slate would come again.
In more ways than one.
But the game in Arizona would be a few days before that.
Would I see him after the game?
The next night, I found myself searching for Slate again on the internet. I didn’t care what I would find, I just wanted to know more about him. After reading a few articles about how he was a home run robber—whatever that meant—I clicked on videos and was rewarded with a few clips of him making diving catches, hitting home runs, and giving post-game interviews.
I was getting hard just by watching him in his element. He owned the field, and that was turning me on. Plus, the realization that I was the only one to know what was under his baseball pants wasn’t helping.
Slipping my hand into my boxers, I got comfortable on my couch, my laptop to the side with a video of Slate on my screen. I watched the play, focusing on the man in center field, and started to stroke my shaft. He was agile as he dove and caught the ball and then slid against the grass on his stomach. I continued to stroke myself as he stood, threw the ball, and smiled. He was fucking gorgeous, and his smile lit up his entire face. I paused the video on his beaming face and rubbed my cock faster as I remembered how that man looked after he came in my mouth.
Kicking off my boxers, I licked my palm, spread my legs wider, and pumped faster, massaging my balls with my free hand at the same time. My toes started to curl as the pleasure raced through my body, and I chased my orgasm as I stared at Slate’s smiling face. I couldn’t wait to taste him again, and I wanted to be the first man to fuck him. To stretch him with slick fingers before I slid my cock into his ass. I wanted to feel his puckered rim squeeze me as I pumped back and forth, our bodies slick with sweat. I wanted to watch him fuck his fist as I pounded into him.
I wanted him.
Allof him.
My hand worked faster and faster over my dick with each new image of Slate that entered my mind. Cupping my balls, I squeezed them as I continued to pump. How had this man consumed me in such a short amount of time? If he weren’t a virgin, I would have gone further than only blowing him. I would have fucked him on the bench near the tennis courts.
I would have devoured every inch of him.
My legs started to flex, my toes curling, and my balls were drawn up as I was about to come. My eyes closed, and I pumped faster as I thought about driving into Slate’s ass and coming. I imagined my cum spilling into his tight hole and dripping out. I was strung tight as I lifted my T-shirt up my stomach just in time for white ropes of cum to shoot out and onto my abs.
Every night was the same: I got off to a picture of Slate on my laptop. I needed more, and I needed to figure out how to find him after the game.
“This is amazing,” Stix boomed as we stood in a hall that led to the field in Oakland.
We could hear the chatter coming from everyone in attendance, and it was exhilarating. Even though we weren’t singing one of our songs, just being in front of thousands of people was the best opportunity to get our name out there.
“Right this way, guys,” an escort said and waved for us to follow her.
