Major League Shutout by O'Reilly Terry

Author:O'Reilly, Terry [O'Reilly, Terry]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2013-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

O.B. lay on his back staring at the ceiling. Avery was snuggled against him, head on his chest, one leg draped over his. Coco was nestled on O.B.’s other side. It was the perfect picture of domestic bliss. And a big contrast to the life O.B. had been living.

Day after day, as the week had unfolded, O.B. found himself experiencing feelings and emotions he had never allowed before. Avery had gone from being a good fuck to a guy who was fun to be with, to someone O.B. now cared for—cared for more than he wanted to admit.

But now, as the effects of the beers at the restaurant abated and his overactive libido cooled following the great sex he’d just had, the memories of the events of the day came flooding back, along with a distinct sense of confusion.

He thought back to just after the game when he’d wanted to talk with Avery. He felt he had to be so covert in doing so that he panicked if he thought anyone was watching. Then he remembered Neil’s homophobic comments.

And then the restaurant. The team had gone to Jason’s. Of all the places they could have chosen, the guys picked the one owned by Avery’s ex-lover. To make matters worse for O.B. and his paranoia, Jason came over to their table to chat with the team. He had greeted O.B. by name. O.B. held his breath, sure that Jason would ask him how Avery was doing. Since Avery and Jason were still friends, O.B. was sure Avery had shared some of what they’d been up to the past few days. To his relief, Jason didn’t make any reference to Avery. Nevertheless, O.B. didn’t relax until the man left the group after saying the next round of drinks would be on him.

The worst experience of the whole night came when O.B. excused himself to go to the bathroom. He’d pissed and was standing at the sink washing his hands, aware that someone had come in and was standing behind him at one of the urinals.

“Hello there, ‘Mr.-Sam-Smith-Not-Married-Jones,’” a somewhat familiar voice said.

O.B. whirled around.

Chuck, O.B.’s fuck from the previous Saturday night, turned from the urinal, his semi-hard cock hanging out of his pants. “Really enjoyed seeing your interview on the news last night. So this is your big secret Mr. Smith-Jones. You’re O.B. Benson, a closeted, queer major league baseball player.” He walked toward O.B., his small dick bobbing tantalizingly up and down. He laughed. “When I saw you on TV, I thought, ‘damn, I’ve been fucked by a celebrity.’” Chuck must have seen the panic on O.B.’s face, because he added, “Don’t worry, Sam. I’ll keep your dirty little secret.”

He tucked his prick into his pants, zipped up, walked to the sink next to O.B., and washed his hands.

O.B. was frozen in place, his heart thumping with terror; his public and private lives had finally met up with each other.

“I was really excited when I saw you come in with the team.

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