Unlatching my catching gear and hanging it up at the end of the day had become somewhat of a ritual for me. First I’d unstrap the goalie-style mask from around my head, cracking my neck and jaw for the first time in hours.

Next came the chest protector and hand extension. That thing had saved me from life-ending injuries more than a couple of times. Especially my second year on Grover’s team, when one of Owen’s 95 mile-per-hour pitches went rogue and beaned me between my first and second ribs on the left side.

My legs were then freed from the knee savers. Too many catchers over the years had worn down their ligaments, causing tearing and in a lot of cases, knee replacements. I wanted to be able to play for as long as I could, not to mention walk as an old man.

And finally, my Iron Man braces came off. At least that’s what my teammates called them. My shin guards and cup were two of the most important things I wore during a game. Miles had always joked that if they ever got damaged, I could always replace my dick with a bionic one. Said the girls would all want to hop on my super human cock.

I missed Farriston, my other best friend on the team. He’d left for a great deal in the minors, and to follow his girl two months ago. His presence was sorely missed on the team; he was our best hitter by far. But I missed his goofy jokes and the way he would razz Owen and Parker.

Removing the last of my pads and braces, I finally stood and stretched, feeling multiple pops and cracks as I went. Catchers didn’t last long. Not only was my job physically draining, crouching and tensing for hours on end while a ball the size of a fist was hurled at me. But it was a mental mind-fuck too. I was the shot-caller, the overseer. I patrolled not only my guys and where they stood, how they played, but I had to assess the other team too. Read plays before the batters and runners even had their own minds made up. I was exhausted after each and every game we played.

“What was all that banging I heard coming from your room last night, Bellows?”

Owen and Parker entered the locker room and began peeling out of their sweaty practice clothes. I envied them. I wasn’t into guys, but because they were so comfortable. So confident. I was still adjusting to my new frame. I had what some docs called body dysmorphia. And yeah, I’d googled that shit. I had been so big for so long that I still felt like that mentally. It was going to take some time.

I flushed at Owen’s question, which only gave me away more. I was an idiot this morning when I’d run straight into Kelsey. No one had known about last night, but they sure did now.

It wasn't that I didn't want my friends to know, but convincing Kelsey that this should be more than just a fuck-you-very-much situation was going to be tough. If everyone knew about it, it would be damn near impossible. I could just see Owen and Minka now; calling us lovebirds, giving us a couple name. Klintelsey. O' Bellows.

"He's had a mile-wide grin on his face all day, so the ass he got must have been good." Kyle Havis spoke up from across the locker room.

"Damn, Bellows landed the redheaded minx? I heard she gives great blow..."

Phil Dorset's words cut off in his throat as I slammed my fist into the locker in between us. Dorset was a sleazeball, always going too far. Sure, the guys on the team talked about sex. Some had even slept with the same girl, Some at the same time. But Phil always knew how to take a normal sexual conversation between teammates and turn it into a twisted perversion. And I wasn't letting him talk about Kelsey that way.

"Not another word, Dorset. I don't ever want to hear you talk about her again. I don't want to hear her name coming from that sick, filthy mouth of yours." I choked through my teeth.

Dorset was enough of a prick to poke out his chest, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Another perk of molding my body into a steel frame of muscles. It got me a lot more respect.

He still hadn't answered me. "Understood?"

Dorset gave a harsh laugh. "Whatever man, I was just playing around."

The rest of the team shuffled slowly back into action, removing their pads and braces and heading for the showers. After washing off and pulling on fresh basketball shorts and a green tee, I headed out to wait for Owen and Parker at the car. We all drove together to practice lately, as if we could feel our time together dwindling.

Soon Owen would be headed for the majors, some superstar pitcher on a top market team. Parker would do who the hell knew what, go into the majors, buy a secluded cabin and be a shut in? Whatever it was, it would be totally Parker.

And me? I didn't know. Sure, the majors sounded nice. But I could already feel the ache in my legs. The stiffness in them when I woke up in the morning. How many years did I really have left? And what other damage could I do?

I'd never been particularly book smart, school wasn't my thing. So anything extremely intelligent or thought-provoking was out of the question. I just didn't know yet. And I was running out of time.

As my friends walked to my truck I pushed the key into the rusty driver's side lock and twisted. The locks sprang up with a groan.

"Why did we decide to take your old junker today?" Parker ribbed me as they slid in.

"Yeah, yeah. Make fun of the poor kid why don't you?" I smiled a shit-eating grin at both of them.

It was true. I hadn't grown up with much. Barely anything. I'd gotten into college on my god-given talent and was thankful. I wasn't ashamed of where I came from, and while my friends liked to bust my chops, I knew they accepted me for exactly who I was.

"So what's really up with you and Kels?" Owen started right back in on the line of questioning as I pulled out of the sports complex parking lot that flanked the left side of campus.

"I have to say too. It’s weird. Seeing you with a chick. If you needed me to find you a bang buddy, you could have asked me to act as your wingman all these years." Parker's long, wiry body is stuffed in the back.

I stay silent, willing this subject to turn into anything else.

"You know, come to think of it...I've never actually seen you bring a chick home." Owen mulls this thought over in his head.

Suddenly Parker springs up, hitting his head on the roof of the car. "Wait a second. Wait a god damn second. Don't tell me it’s true!"

My heart started beating double time. Because I knew exactly what Parker had just figured out in his head.

"What?" Owen was all ears now.

"She took his v-card. Our little Clint here is a grown man." The smirk Parker wore rivaled the Cheshire Cat. That prick.

I think Owen's mouth was on the floor. "NO! You were a virgin man? Damn...I remember my first time. Allison, my high school girlfriend, in the basement at her parents’ house. I almost spilled my load in my boxers."

"You're not the only one..." I muttered before I could stop myself.

"I knew it! You celibate son of a bitch!" Parker is laughing his ass off in the back. I think my face was as red as a fire hydrant now.

Owen sensed my discomfort. "Well, welcome to the club buddy. How was it?"

I smiled a bit. "Fucking awesome. Who knew something could feel that good? And head...why have I gone so long without that?"

I felt like a man finally being able to join in this conversation.

"Dude, it’s like pitching a perfect game in the World Series. No...it’s better than that." Owen's eyes went fuzzy, and I knew he was thinking about Minka naked.

"If someone told me I could have a 24-hour blow job but at the end, I'd die, I might consider it." Parker shook his head solemnly in the back.

We all just nodded for the rest of the ride home, respectively thinking about just how great blow jobs were.

It was almost dark out when we pulled up at the house, and I could hear the low thump of music coming from inside.

"Who is having a party in our house? That we all live in and had no idea about?" Parker looked quizzically at us.

The three of us hunkered up the stairs, all sore and tired from the brutal practice we'd just endured. Making the College World Series meant Coach was lighting a fire under our asses. We weren't going home losers this year.

When we got inside, the blaring hip-hop music was only coming from one corner of the house. Kelsey's corner.

I waved the guys off, signaling that I would take care of the problem. As I got closer, I could make out the lyrics, "Drunk in loveee. We be all night! Loveee. Loveee. We be all night!"

Chuckling to myself on her choice of song, I knocked on the door. Waited a few seconds, nothing. This time I banged my entire fist in an effort to rattle the door on its hinges. Still nothing.

"Roo..." I opened her door, letting myself in, and stopped dead at the sight in front of me.

Kelsey was in the middle of the room, her hair piled on the top of her head like some fiery tornado, a glass filled to the brim with red wine in her hand. And she was dancing like a mad woman.

She donned a white tank top that exposed the sides of her breasts, and a pair of entirely-too-large grey sweatpants that pooled over her feet, making her look like a dwarf. She was utterly adorable and fucking mouth-wateringly sexy.

At the creek of the door she turned, her naturally red lips splitting in a megawatt smile.

“Hi!”

I could tell from her dancing and the slight blush of her cheeks that she was tipsy. It made her even cuter.

“Hi yourself. What’re you doing there?” I couldn’t help her infectious smile from spreading across my face too.

She shook her hips wildly as the song changed to something faster. Pitbull maybe. But I was never good with music. “I had a long, hard day. Kickass, but fucking hard! So I’m dancing.”

Kelsey makes this more evident by raising the wine glass to her lips, taking a huge swig, and then raising it above her head and twirling in circles.

I drop my baseball bag on her floor and toe my sneakers off. Then I join her in the middle of her floor, and begin to move.

She gives a happy shout and moves closer to me, joining her free hand with mine and swinging us both.

“I had my fingers up a zebra’s ass today. Well technically, it was a whole fist!”

She announces this like it's the most normal thing in the world while I pull quickly out of her grasp. Kelsey begins to giggle at my astonishment.

“Oh my god! Don’t worry I had gloves on. But I did have to juggle her placenta in there…”

“Kels, stop. I am going to throw up.”

She did that sexy little giggle again and raised the glass to her lips. As she swallowed, she raised it to mine. I let her pour some into my mouth, watching her cinnamon eyes over the brim. I knew the instant desire sparked in them, and I could feel myself harden in the meshy basketball shorts.

Reaching up, I held the delicate stem in my fingers and pried it out of her hand. Setting it down on the desk, I began to stalk toward her like she was the meal and I was ravenous.

Kelsey’s eyes went saucer wide, a pink tinge marking her alabaster chest and cheeks. I walked her back without even touching her until her back hit the wall.

Time to show her she wasn’t dealing with a fumbling virgin anymore. It was my time to act on all of the things I’d thought about doing to her. With her. This is where watching all that porn was going to come in handy.