All true-every cum dripping drop.
When I was in college at I lived in an apartment building just off campus. The baseball stadium was next to my apartment. If I looked out the side window I could see the stands and a bit of the field. But it didn't matter since I was at every home game and there for practice as often as possible.
Baseball players - especially fresh and young in college are the hottest athletes on the planet - sorry David Beckham. And man oh man can they fill a cup. Everything about them excites me - those long compression socks held in place by those tight pants pressing so hard against their sliders and wrapping their cups like icing on a cake. And then their fucking muscular broad chests gripped tightly by those retro looking buttoned up jerseys.
And those unbelievably muscular arms - tanned, toned and tight - with caps or batting helmets, just like a cherry on top.
Well I love a man who can handle a bat - his, mine or a wooden substitute. I love baseball because of the tight pants, curved and defined asses, always visible sliders and huge bulges.
But most of all I like baseball because of all of the crotch action. Let's face it, adjusting the package is half the game. And I don't think every ballplayer is gay, but it is the most homo erotic game out there. Not to mention all the butt slapping. When I am at a game, the binoculars are always focused on the studs on the field.
Fuck the score, I am fixated by every twitch, scratch, leg shift, squat - fuck I am rock hard. I shift in my seat as much as a whore in church when I am at a ballpark. Life just doesn't get much better than this.
I always wonder how many of the crotch watchers are on duty when I am at a game? Who else is watching every move these testosterone drenched studs make. I usually focus on one or two beefy players - muscle studs with good looks and amazing bodies.
How much sweat is he packing in his crotch?
Is he wearing a cup or risking the family jewels in just a jock or sliders alone?
Does he have a semi?
How often does he get hard during a game?
How's it hanging - pointing down, up or sideways?
Does he know how hot he is?
Does he know I am drooling?
Does he know I would give my all to pleasure him from head to toe?
Does he know he is a god - the most perfect looking fuck machine on the planet?
Does he know what I would give to smell his jock, to put it on, to fill his cup with my cum, to worship him forever?
I think he probably knows some of this. He's confident with incredible posture, strutting in the way only a man at the top of his game can. But come on, how much can he adjust himself in one game? Surely he must know what he does to me? Each movement towards his crotch, each scratch, each nut pulling tug, each cup adjustment with all that tight fitting gear - he's got to have a bit of a rise working. And he's got to know he's got some guy in the stand fucking rock hard, straining to burst through his shorts, holding his peanuts over his nuts, trying to hide the monster lurking beneath. All the while wanting to jump up, pull his shots off and jack off in the middle of the stands - fuck it all - the whole world can know, it doesn't get better than this and the only thing that could make it better is that guy, that fucking stud player, laying on top of him as he shoots buckets and buckets just from the weight and fucking masculine beauty of that guy - that fucking tease, that god in tights, rubbing and tugging his cup-clad cock, that wet dream, that ballplayer.