Umpire and player Pt. 03

Author's note: a little more story than sex, heads up.

Thursday evening, Hal stood near the centre field wall, in the bottom of the second. Even from there he heard the crack of the bat as it met the ball. He watched it soar up, arching into the sky. With his eyes locked onto the ball, he began to move, first forward then back, one hand reaching behind to feel for the outfield wall. And then at the last minute he jumped, his arm stretched out, glove open. He felt the ball settle into the pocket, and he slammed the glove closed around it. However, just as he did that, he hit the wall, hitting it in the wedge between panels of padding, his shoulder slammed into a metal support pole.

He bounced forward and slammed down onto the outfield track, he rolled and ended up seated, legs splayed but he held his glove hand up to show that he still held the ball. The crowd roared. He sat for a moment, as the left and right fielders closed in on him. He opened the glove and let the ball drop, caught it with his other hand and tossed it to Jackson, the right fielder, as he trotted up. Then he tried to lower his left arm, the arm with the glove, and his shoulder screamed. He winced as the arm came down but got to his feet and tried to shake it off. The crowd cheered again when he stood up, sure that their hero was okay now.

The game progressed and the pain grew with each inning, by the seventh he was pulled and was sent in to see the trainer, who did some stretching and massage therapy, but the pain persisted. The trainer determined an Xray was called for and he was sent off for those. The Xray indicated that there was a rotator cuff tear in his shoulder. In most cases the cure would be time and rest to resolve that kind of injury, so they put Hal on a day-to-day schedule. The team had him sit out for a few days, which amounted to the rest of the weekend. The following Monday would start the All Star break, so he'd get a total of six days of rest.

Hal was restless without his workouts and playing, he called Carl but Carl hadn't been responding to him since the beginning of the season when he'd broken things off with Hal. Hal hadn't seen him since, as Carl hadn't worked on any of his games. Hal was frustrated and he was taking that out on his relationship with his fiancé. And as the wedding planning progressed, they argued more and more. Hal knew that the wedding wasn't anything he wanted. He wanted Carl and wished he could have made it work. When the team sat him down just before the All Star break, it all came to a boil: the pressure, the pain, that he was feeling useless and scared, and he took his frustration out on her by unfairly, picking fights and finally storming out.

In San Diego, Carl was calling a four game weekend series that left him plenty of time to hit Blacks Beach for some nude beach time or to relax in the southern California sun by his hotel pool. This afternoon he was by the pool when his phone beeped, it was Hal, again. He'd been calling and texting since Thursday. Well, he'd been calling and texting since spring but not as often as he has been in the last few days. But after their spring training fling, Carl decided that he didn't want to play second fiddle to the fiancé. They talked and agreed that they shouldn't pursue a relationship.

After that series had ended and they'd each gone in different directions, he let Hal know that he was good, glad they'd had their fling but he ended things between them before it got too complicated. Since then, Hal had continued to call and text, but Carl had ignored them all, deleting voice mails without listening to them.

He finished the book he was reading and set it down on the table beside him and picked up his phone. There were half a dozen messages from Hal, just this afternoon. It was Saturday, heading into the All Star game and Carl was looking forward to a few days off, as he hadn't been assigned to the game. He'd booked a flight to Puerto Vallarta, leaving right after the game on Sunday afternoon. He would be staying near the Zona Romantica and planned to enjoy the atmosphere, the gay beach and the clubs. No one recognized Umpires, so he wasn't worried about being "caught" and he'd been before without incident.

As he sat looking at this phone, he glanced at the messages from Hal, he normally deleted them without reading them, but something made him read these ones.

"Carl, I need to talk with you."

"Carl, I'm injured, they have me sitting out games."

"Carl, call me, I really need to talk with you."

The message about his injury caught Carl's eye and he brought up his news feed to see if he could find out what had happened. Despite trying to keep his distance from Hal, he still found that he cared for him, and if things were different, he could see a future with him but sadly they weren't. They worked so well together. Still to lean into a clandestine relationship with a closeted married ball player was just something he couldn't do. Or more correctly, didn't want to do.

The news indicated a shoulder injury, and that Hal was day-to-day, so nothing serious he thought to himself. Still, he wondered if he should call. Just a quick call to check on Hal, he told himself. Or maybe he should wait for Hal's next call, that might be smarter, he told himself. He didn't have to wait long.

About 30 minutes later, Hal called again, this time Carl answered.

"How are you," he asked right out of the gate.

"I'm kind of lost, honestly," Hal replied, jumping right into the matter at hand.

"Lost how?" Carl replied.

"The press hasn't been told, but the injury is worse than they know. The recommendation is surgery, which will end my season. They tell me that in most cases, these type of injuries, just need time but the severity of the hit I took, well, it did major damage and they're recommending that I have the surgery."

"You don't want to have the surgery?"

"I don't want to lose the whole season and if I shut it down, if I have the surgery that's my season done."

"And what if you don't have the surgery?" Carl asked.

"They tell it could get worse, or it could even improve, though they don't believe that."

"Look I think you should have the surgery; your long-term career is more important than a single season. Get it fixed and fixed right."

"It's not that simple. I can't just walk away," Hal replied. "Look it's the break, can I see you? Do you have plans? I really want to see you, to talk to you about this and help me to make the right decision."

"I'm sorry, I do have plans," Carl answered but didn't elaborate. "Plus, I don't think it's a good idea to see each other, we both know how that will end up and it was hard enough to walk away last spring."

"I miss you, Carl," Hal persisted, "Can't we meet, please? I need to see you; I need someone in my corner right now."

"Well, if by in your corner, you mean someone to support you if you decide to forego the surgery then that's not me, I think you need to have it," Carl stated.

"I don't want the surgery, I don't need the surgery," Hal insisted.

"I know that I won't convince you but I, also, won't support your decision not to," Carl sniped.

They continued back and forth for a few more minutes before Hal angrily disconnected.

Carl sat for a bit by the pool, lost in his thoughts. He looked at his phone, sighed and headed up to change for dinner.

Sunday's game wrapped up, Carl had his equipment shipped with the rest of his team to the next city, where he'd pick it up post All Star game. He packed his clothes and hoped on his plane to Puerto Vallarta.

His hotel was on the beach and his balcony overlooked the Pacific, the moon glistened off the water, as the sun had set by the time he arrived. He opened the doors to the balcony to let the sea breeze in, stripped and then unpacked for his three-night stay. It was still early, and he was horny as hell, he pulled up his hookup app but didn't find anyone appealing at first glance. He decided to hit the bars and see what good trouble he could find, but after a few drinks, he wasn't haven't any luck there and decided on a spa instead.

He walked to the one he'd been to before and paid his admission, got his room, stripped and began to wander around. It didn't take long to find offers. In the dry sauna a man began to fondle him and offered to blow him. Carl told him to go ahead but then someone else came in and his guy bolted. Carl was kind of surprised by that but shook it off. The new guy didn't seem interest and Carl left to rinse off in the showers, then he hit the movie room to enjoy some porn. He watched the screen which was showing a threesome with a top working two bottoms, swapping between the two, fucking each in turn. Carl had felt someone occupy the seat next to him but other than a quick glance, he didn't pay attention. That is, until a hand then a mouth was wrapped around his hard cock. He leaned back then and enjoyed the throat enveloping his cock. This guy had a very talented mouth and Carl let him work his magic.

He'd been horny going in, and this guy was very talented, Carl began to feel his load rise, the feeling build until that moment of hesitation just before his cock pulsed out his load. He hung there, suspended in time and space as the hungry mouth worked his cock. The moment lingered and then he came, filling the guy's mouth to overflowing.

He looked down then and he recognized the face attached to the mouth around his cock, a porn actor, he'd seen a few of the guy's movies; the guy was famous for his blowjobs and now Carl understood why. The guy, his name was John Carl recalled, licked every drop that Carl's cock offered and kept sucking after, causing Carl to shiver with the sensitivity.

"That was fucking amazing," Carl said as he caught his breath, "I've watched you or your films, John, for a few years and always thought you had amazing talent and now I see firsthand how talented you really are." Carl used the man's name or least his stage name, as that was what he knew.

"You've got a great cock, bud," John replied, "I loved blowing it."

"Carl," Carl offered his name, "and I'm honoured, I'd love a repeat performance, if you're up for it."

"I'm always up for it," John answered. "Want to get out of here?"

"Let's go to my hotel. It's not far," Carl suggested.

"I'll meet you at the door in 10 minutes," John suggested, and they both headed back to their rooms to dress.

They walked out of the Spa into the hot tropical night, to a blinding flash as a camera went off, then again and again, almost right in their faces. Followed by the sound of running feet as the photographer took off.

"Don't mind that," John suggested, "Happens to me all the time. Just a fan grabbing a photo." Carl was a little bothered by that, the idea of that photo out there.

They walked back to his hotel, and he led John up to his room, photographer forgotten. He'd left the balcony doors open when he went out. The room was cool and smelled of the ocean and a lovely breeze was blowing in off the water. They stripped as soon they entered the room, and both wandered out to the balcony. They stood by the balcony rail for a few minutes, arms wrapped around each other's waist. John leaned in and kissed Carl, then pushed Carl back and down into a chair. He knelt between Carl's legs and began to work on Carl's hardening cock. John knew his business and Carl was hard and buried in John's throat in moments.

He leaned back in the chair, tilted his head back and simply relaxed into John's mouth, arms resting on the chair's arms as he just enjoyed the feeling. Then the feeling went away. He opened his eyes and looked up in time to see that John had stood up, turned around and was lowering his ass down onto Carl's thick cock. As soon as the ass closed over him, Carl sighed out. John for his part, groaned and pushed further down until his ass and hips were resting on Carl's thighs. Both men were very verbal as John continued to ride Carl.

Carl pushed him off his cock, though and stood them both up, he pushed John forward, so that John leaned on the balcony railing as Carl took a position behind him and pushed his cock back into John's ass. He pounded hard, since John was already open and ready. The concrete wall of the balcony provided excellent support and John took everything that Carl had to offer. John's ass was tight, Carl didn't know what he expected from a porn actor, but the tightness was a pleasant surprise. He drove deep into John's ass. The moans echoed out into the night.

"I'm gonna cum." Carl stated.

"On my face," John begged.

Carl pulled out, spun John around and pushed him to his knees. Just in time, as his cock shot rope after rope of cum onto John's salt and pepper beard. John who had been furiously beating his own cock while Carl fucked him, shot a huge load onto Carl's legs and feet, then bent down and licked Carl clean.

Carl pulled him to his feet, kissed him, tasting cum on John's lips and tongue. They sat for a time on the balcony to enjoy the cool evening air, then retired to bed, where John sucked another load out of Carl. The morning light woke them; as the room was facing west, they didn't get direct morning sun but it was still bright enough at 7 a. m. Carl sat up in bed and looked down at John, still laying back, morning wood standing proud. He leaned down and took the hard cock, he'd seen so many times online, into his mouth. John moaned at his touch but stayed still, letting Carl explore his cock.

Carl's own morning wood was demanding attention and lifted John's legs, climbed between his spread thighs and pushed his cock into John's ass. John took him easily and they enjoyed a leisurely fuck session, neither rushing just a good steady pounding. John was now stroking his cock in time to Carl's thrusts. They both were getting close.

Both of their phones chimed, almost simultaneously but they ignored them, as they were both close to finishing. Then they chimed again, and again.

"Cum for me," John pleaded, and Carl quickened his pace, driving hard into John and let his balls empty into John's ass. As his cock pulsed cum into John, John's fist did its job, and his cock erupted across his belly.

They collapsed down onto each other, as Carl's phone rang, then rang again when he didn't answer and again. Finally, he rolled over and grabbed his phone. He saw about a half dozen messages, one from his sister, a couple from Hal and other friends, including one of his coworkers, a fellow umpire. He didn't read them at first but checked the missed calls. It was the league office. Multiple calls from them.

"What the fuck," he said to himself, then pulled up the messages before he checked the voicemails.

"Holy shit," John said behind him, causing him to turn. "That wasn't just some fan taking the pic last night and they took more than that."

"What do you mean," Carl asked.

John turned his phone and there was a video playing of John leaning over the balcony, lit from behind with Carl, driving into him.

"How the fuck did they get that?" Carl asked him.

"I'm guessing it must have been a drone," John answered.

"Holy shit, no," Carl was feeling a sense of panic settle in.

He scrolled the messages left on his phone.

The first one was from his sister: "what have you done," was all it said.

The second and third from Hal: "OMG what have you done" was the first and the second "Are you all right, Carl? Call me."

Two from his friends: "Carl, we didn't know, we support you," said one and "Carl, you dog," said an old ex with whom he was still friends.

The last text was from a fellow umpire, "I saw the video, I'll pray for you," it said, simply.

Carl nearly dropped his phone.

He checked his mail, there were the pics from outside the club and a copy of balcony video.

Then he checked his voicemail.

The commissioner was the first message: "Carl, this is a very tough call for us to make..." It then cut off.

The second was the commissioner again: "Look I don't want to do this over the phone, get your ass to New York for a meeting."

The third from the head of the umpire's union: "The league will want to fire you, the union will stand behind you, as much as we can."

He dropped his phone then.

"I'm so, so sorry," John offered, though none of it was his fault.

Carl flew that afternoon to New York and was summarily fired for breaching his morality cause - baseball is a family game, they said, and this type of behaviour does not embody good family values." The union vowed to fight it but as of that day he was out of professional baseball.

Hal took the news hard when he heard it, first the video had left him feeling a bit jealous, though he had no reason to be, as they weren't a couple, but it still him hard. Then he felt bad for Carl and tried calling and texting, but Carl was awol. As the All Star break ended, he returned to the team and advised them that he would play through. They accepted that but management continued to pressure him to schedule the surgery.

He played through until mid-August before the shoulder finally gave out and the injury became so bad that it forced the issue. He was placed on the 60-day injured list, though everyone knew he was done for the season. The following week the surgery was scheduled. It went well. He'd need a few weeks to heal, he'd spend that with the team where he acted as cheerleader and coach for the younger players. After a few weeks, he'd start his physio. He went home to southern California where he'd overwinter and attend physio with the hopes of returning the following spring. His fiancé packed up the condo and made ready to shift their lives back to California. She was the one that recommended postponing the wedding, so he could focus on recovery, he was all too happy to agree with that. He arrived home in late September and immediately reached out to the physio technician that the team had arranged for him. They'd split their time between the tech's office and his own home where he had a full gym set up. The first few visits were at the clinic, he arrived at 10 a. m. on the first day, he'd used a service to drive him there rather than try to drive himself - he could manage but it bothered him after a while.

The man who came out to meet him was tall, at least six inches taller than Hal, he had a shock of blonde hair, long in the front, short in the back, he wore a sleeveless tee, which showed off firm biceps. And the kicker for Hal, the man had crystal clear blue eyes, the kind of eyes you could get lost in for a long, long time. And he nearly did.

He caught himself staring, he hoped before the tech noticed, and extended his good hand to shake. Introductions were made and Josh led him back into a treatment room and began to examine and test Hal for range of motion, pain levels, setting a baseline for their work going forward. The first two weeks they worked out of the clinic but then moved treatments to Hal's home where he felt more comfortable, using his own equipment and being out of the public eye.

Josh was patient and helpful and so damn good looking that Hal would often leave the session with a hard on and though he always wore baggy sweats, he was still thanking the fates that he was smallish, so it was less noticeable. He began to fantasize about Josh, about his touch, sensual and firm, guiding him through exercises that in his fantasies always led to sex. He imagined it several times, Josh massaging and working his muscles, his hand straying across Hal's chest, tweaking a nipple then moving down across Hal's torso, feeling the contours of his muscles. Josh, using his hand to guide Hal's own hand to his crotch, where Hal would be able to feel the hardness of Josh's cock. It feels huge to his hand, just like the man it's attached to. He imagines pulling down Josh's track pants and watching the hard cock pop out (in his fantasy, Josh is always commando in his trackies). He takes the long hard cock into his mouth and as Josh strips him of the rest of his clothes. He can see Josh then move between his legs where he slides that big cock into his ass. It's usually right about then that he cums. He would lay there drenched in his own load, as he imagined Josh filling his ass with cum. Some days, he'd need to go twice.

By the end of November, he'd felt like there was improvement, his range of motion was better, but his strength was still off. Vanessa, his fiancé, went home for Thanksgiving, but he stayed to keep working on physio, he'd now scheduled daily sessions with Josh and even suggested Josh work for him full-time so that he could devote his whole day to recovery. Josh told him that wouldn't be a good idea, as he needed rest between sessions and pushing all day would not heal him faster and may, in fact, push him the other way. Still, he suggested about three-hour sessions every day. They could work on his shoulder but also on the rest of his body as well, to help keep him in shape and work out without injuring the shoulder further

Hal agreed to that, and they kept working on the shoulder but expanding to include other exercises. Josh was a little concerned as he felt Hal's progress should be further along, but he cautioned patience.

The day after Vanessa had left, Josh arrived for his usual session, but traffic had been amazing and he was somewhat early, almost half hour. Hal had told him, previously, that he didn't need to knock, he could just walk in, and so he did. He called out but there was no answer, and he wandered down toward the gym which was past the primary bedroom, whose door was open. Hal lay on the bed, in full view from the door, stroking his cock, he had one hand wrapped around his balls and a largish toy stuffed in his ass. He lay on the bed, legs spread, toy piercing him, with head back as his hand pumped his cock. His ass rose and fell, riding the toy. His hand, three fingers holding his cock, flew up and down. Josh had gotten there at the tail end, just before Hal began to shoot his load all over his belly.

He watched for a moment, then quietly slipped past the door, his own erection leading the way. He had never thought of Hal that way, keeping business and pleasure separate but now he knew that barrier had been breeched. He thought how much he would have loved to walk into that bedroom and switch places with that toy, to lick up Hal's load. His cock was actually aching, he was so hard. He buried himself in his prep.

He was in the gym setting up when Hal walked in. Hal looked freshly showered.

"How long have you been here," Hal asked.

"Only a few minutes," Josh replied, "I'm just getting set up, I'll be ready in a few minutes." He kept his back to Hal, hoping that his cock would go down, but it simply would not soften and as Hal walked past him to the juice bar, Josh tried to hide that his cock was jutting out from his track pants.

Hal noticed though, his eye drawn like a moth to a flame, he could see the front of Josh's pants clearly in the mirror overtop the bar and couldn't take his eyes off Josh's bulge. It looked big. Maybe bigger even than he had fantasized about.

He turned then, juice forgotten and walked up to Josh. Josh stood frozen, caught now, he didn't know what to do. Hal took matters into hand, literally, grasping Josh's cock through the track pants.

"Do you have a not so small problem?" he asked and began to drop to his knees, "Let me help."

As he settled, he pulled down on the track pants he'd fantasized about so often removing, but unlike his fantasies, Josh was not commando, he wore compression shorts which were stretched with his hard on - a large wet spot covering the area over his left thigh, where his head rested.

On his knees, Hal leaned in and licked the head through the material of Josh's shorts. He closed his lips around the shaft and trailed it back down towards where Josh's balls rested, held tight by the material. Josh tried to step back but Hal held him in place and reluctantly pulled his lips off the long outline of Josh's cock.

"Do you want me to stop?" Hal asked.

"No fucking way," Josh reply, more of a gasp than speech, he so rushed his answer.

Hal nodded but instead of replacing his tongue, he pulled down the compression shorts and let Josh's long cock flop out or given how hard it was, snap out. He took it in hand, sliding his hand along the length, at least eight inches of thick cut meat. He admired the smooth, silky skin gliding under his hand and stuck his tongue out to lick up the drops of precum forming on the tip. He savoured the nectar, before opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the head and further down the shaft.

He took Josh as deep as he could which was about seven of those eight inches. Saliva filled his mouth around the cock, spilling out and running down the shaft. Josh's knees began to feel a bit weak as Hal worked him masterfully. He moved them back, Hal never losing contact with his cock, until was able to sit on a bench and reposition Hal between his legs. Hal worked the cock shaft with his hand while he went down to suckle on each ball in turn.

Josh leaned back onto the flat bench and spread his legs wide to give Hal all the access he needed. Hal took advantage of the spread legs and dropped lower, driving his tongue into Josh's ass. His one hand still stroking the very hard cock. He rimmed Josh for about five minutes then returned his attention to the head and shaft, letting his mouth close around it and follow his hand down towards the root.

He milked Josh with his mouth for a few minutes before Josh stopped him.

"Can I fuck you," he asked.

"Hell yes," Hal was quick to answer, he pulled his clothes off as they swapped places and Hal lay on his back on the bench. Josh took his position between Hal's legs. He knelt down, spread Hal's cheeks and spit onto his hole, then used his tongue to push his spit in. He worked his tongue in for a few minutes then stood up, squatted a bit and positioned his cock, spit down onto the hole again, and onto his cock head and he pushed in. Hal's ass was still partially relaxed from the toy he'd been using earlier, and Josh was able to sink in smoothly.

Hal groaned out in pleasure as Josh settled into him. He leaned down and kissed Hal, he whispered into Hal's ear, then, that he'd seen Hal jerking off, when he arrived and had been so turned on since then. Rather than be embarrassed that he was caught, Hal thought it was hot that Josh was turned by him. Josh fucked hard into Hal's ass and reached down to stroke Hal's cock. He'd barely touched Hal when Hal's cock erupted spraying cum onto Josh's hand and his lower belly. Josh lifted his fingers to Hal's lips and fed him his own load. And as Hal sucked on Josh's fingers, Josh felt his load rise and he emptied his balls into Hal's ass. As he came down from his orgasm, he leaned down and kissed Hal again. They rested then, rolling off the bench onto the padded floor, before getting up and grabbing a drink from the gym bar.

They spent the next four days together, fucking and working out, they were naked the entire time. Hal was in heaven, he'd drop to his knees and suck Josh every opportunity he got, they slept together and Josh would take Hal's ass in the middle of the night. By Sunday following Thanksgiving, Hal's ass was sore and both their cocks felt raw. Josh finally went home when Vanessa returned and even after that they continued to hook up as often as they could.

Therapy continued, in a more normal fashion, but Hal had reached a plateau and was no longer making progress. He'd lost a large portion of his range of motion and his strength never returned.

In January, he had to visit the team physician for a progress check and after that the team decided to release him. They spoke with him and explained that they couldn't keep him on with the state of his arm and shoulder, as the prognosis was that he'd improved as much as he was going to, and he would never be 100%, perhaps if he'd had the surgery earlier, he might have healed better. No one could say. Hal returned home, angry, determined that he'd succeed. He put out feelers to other teams, but they'd all heard about the injury diagnosis, and no one would talk to him. He spent weeks trying to get a tryout.

He blamed everyone, the doctors, the team trainers, Josh, even Vanessa, everyone but himself, and his decision to delay the surgery. He ended up firing Josh for his inability to help him. In the end Vanessa, stuck with him and convinced him to retire as a player and try to move into coaching, where he wouldn't age out and his injury wouldn't matter.

February rolled around and as teams prepared for sprint training, he was flying to New York to meet with team reps, from a few different teams, about moving into coaching. He got to the airport, where he was greeted by a dozen paparazzi snapping pics, shouting at him, he was confused and didn't understand a thing they were shouting, security helped him to get through and into a VIP lounge.

A woman approached, greeted him, and said, "I don't think it was nice of that young man, but I hope it works out for you, be brave." She patted his shoulder and walked away. He found people looking at him, staring at him, he wasn't sure what was going on.

He reached in to grab his phone and realized he'd turned it off. Turning it back on, he saw several messages from Vanessa - most were angry but the gist of most of them was "Is it true". He tried calling but she didn't answer. He ended up texting, "Babe, what are you talking about."

He had no idea what she wanted to know was true, what she was talking about. Finally, they called his plane and as he was making his way to his gate, he saw a tabloid newspaper in one of the shops. His picture graced the front cover - "My affair with a baseball player," was the headline. He stopped dead in his tracks.

He grabbed a copy and read it there in the shop. Josh had sold his story to the tabloids. There were no lurid pictures, they had taken a few, but Hal was sure he held them all, all they has was just a shirtless pic from his social media, but there were lots of lurid details. Josh had been explicit and descriptive. He couldn't believe that Josh would sell him out like that.

He pulled his cap down low and pulled his hoodie up, trying to hide his face until he could board the plane. In New York the media attention was worse. He was swarmed when he got off the plane. He'd arranged a driver, and she helped him through the crowds and into the back of the town car.

When he boarded the plane, he had 4 interviews lined up for coaching positions. As she drove him to his hotel, he checked his messages, more from Vanessa, and all four meetings had been cancelled. They were conciliatory, but in the end the message was the same. He's too hot to touch at the moment.

He wanted to cry. But more importantly, he wanted to talk to someone. He tried Carl but there was no answer. He tried Vanessa again and got her on the third try. She was angry, hurt. She cried, she called him an ass, told him to fuck off, that she never wanted to see him again. Said she'd spoken to Josh and Still found it hard to believe. Asked him to come home, told him to stay away. He was a mess when he finally got off the phone. He ordered room service, there was no way he was going out tonight and then changed his flight home to the morning. There was no point in staying in New York.

He received a few calls from his teammates, the guys he'd been close with, and they were all supportive, which was nice. He finally went to bed but didn't really sleep. He surfed the web, hitting news sites, streaming sports news. He was the talk of the town, an out professional baseball player - though he hadn't come out. But as he thought that, he realized he was out now, everyone knew and there was no going back. He cried a bit then, mostly at the change in his circumstances.

He'd booked a car for 7 A. M. and he hoped he could sneak out ahead of the press in the morning. The next morning, at about 6:30 A. M., he received a call from another former player. This player admitted that he, too, was gay and he'd like to help Hal, firstly by providing a private jet so he wouldn't have to go home on a commercial airline and deal with the public. He'd pick Hal up at his hotel and take him to a private airport, out of the public eye. Hal knew the man, Pat McDonal, by reputation, he'd been a star third baseman and had migrated out of baseball to a successful business career. Hal thanked him and cancelled his own town car.

Pat arrived about 30 minutes later, he drove up to the back service entrance, which the hotel had gladly offered for their use and Hal got in the car. Pat was blonde and very good looking, and very fit, still, even in his middle years. They introduced themselves to each other and Pat drove off. They passed a mass of reporters out front, but the tinted windows protected him and they made a clean get away.

"That's a horrible way to be outed, not that there's a good way to be forced out of the closet," Pat offered.

"I had no clue, the guy who sold the story, didn't speak with me before hand, neither did the tabloid, I was completely blindsided," Hal replied.

"It's a hard life, living in the closet in professional sports, any sport, we're so much in the public eye and everyone feels like they should have an opinion on your life. But you're not alone, there are several of us." Pat looked over at Hal. "I know right now, it seems grim, you're in a dark scary place, but just reach out to me or any of the other's I can put you in touch with when you need us." He patted Hal's leg. There was no sexual context to the patting, just reassurance.

The rest of the ride they were both quiet. Pat turned into the airport about 30 minutes later and drove right up to his waiting plane. They both got out. Pat handed him a card with a website address, contact information: an email address and phone number. On the back was Pat's personal number.

"This is our group, we're all former ball players that happen to be gay, or most of us, we have a few allies in the group too," he said, "If you need to talk call or chat via the website, someone is there all the time. Or use my number, on the back, to reach me directly."

Hal thanked him, they hugged. It was strange but Hal felt he knew Pat, that they'd been friends for a long time rather than having just met. He boarded the plane and in minutes he was in the air. Pat got back in his car and drove off; Hal watched the car pull away from his seat, as the plane made ready to leave. A few hours later they landed in LA and a car was waiting to take him home. He tried Vanessa several times on the drive in, but she never answered. The town car pulled into his gated community, which thankfully kept the press at bay, and then into his driveway and helped him to unload his bag. Hal thanked the driver, he offered a tip, which was declined, and the young man drove off.

He climbed the three steps to his verandah to find the door ajar. He stepped in to find his place a mess. Half filled boxes filled the island, the living room was a shambles, his office was untouched, but their bedroom was a wreck - the bed had been stripped of the linens, all of Vanessa's clothes were gone, her toiletries and jewellery, as well. When he first entered the house, he thought he'd been robbed or vandalized but now he realized she'd left him and taken what she could.

He found a note on the counter, from her, saying that she was done, she wanted to give him another chance, but she couldn't, not knowing now that he was gay, and that there was no future for them. That was all it said. He collapsed down onto the kitchen floor and wept then, hurt, broken, alone, realizing that everything he'd worked for his whole life was simply gone in an instant. He fell asleep, or passed out, there on his kitchen floor and woke several hours later, stiff and sore.

He got up, went into his office, booted his computer and brought up the webpage that Pat had given him. Pat answered his chat right away. They talked all day and into the night. Pat, being a fellow ball player, understood him, and they hit it off. He was a tremendous coach and mentor. Over the next days and weeks, Pat and his friends were there for Hal. He lived in isolation, ordering food and groceries for delivery. Vanessa never returned and he stopped trying to call her. The press, after failing to reach him, simply moved on to another scandal, another hot story and he faded from public memory, which he was thankful for.

The new ball season was well underway, when Pat made a suggestion to Hal. Many of the players in the group were involved in a gay baseball league and they were short a few coaches, with actual baseball experience. Is that something he'd be interested in?

"It's not the big league by any stretch," Pat offered, "but it's still baseball and there are a lot of talented players in these leagues."

Hal didn't even think about it, he agreed on the spot, he listed his house for sale and hit the road with the gay league. He didn't need that big house anymore and no sense paying a mortgage for it when he'd be travelling a lot. Pat sent the plane to pick him up and he met the team he'd be working with, in Kansas City. He was introduced around, the players ranged from butch men to flamboyant queens and everyone of them welcomed him with hugs and not a few ass grabs.

The first game he'd be involved in was that night at 7 and he got his new uniform and took a position on the bench. It was weird not to be playing and only coaching but he would adapt. The teams took the field, the umpires came out and took their positions. Hal looked and did a double take, the guy at second base looked familiar, the way he moved, the way he stood, so familiar. He had to take a closer look and sure enough it was Carl. He almost ran out, then and there, to grab him and hug him.

The game lasted an eternity, he wanted to talk to Carl between innings but decided that a quick 30 second chat wouldn't do, they need to sit and talk. The game dragged on, he fidgeted on the bench. During the game, Pat called to ask how it was going. He returned the call during the 7th inning stretch and told him about Carl.

"Really, you know him?" Pat replied, "That's awesome. Speak to him after the game."

Hal had stepped back into the tunnel, behind the dugout, for the call and when he finished talking with Pat, he texted Carl.

"I know you're not speaking to me, but I see you out there at second base," a subtle hint he was at the same game, "and I want so badly to rush out and hug you, I miss you. Can we meet after the game?"

He knew he wouldn't get an answer during the game, but he sincerely hoped he'd get one after. The game finally ended, the players strolled in off the field, the umpires disappeared into their room and Hal remained watching the field, hoping Carl would show himself. After about 30 minutes he made his way back to change into his street clothes and stepped out into the corridor leading to the parking lot. Carl was waiting.

"Where do they have you staying," Carl asked.

"A small hotel about 20 minute walk from here," Hal replied.

"I'll drive you," Carl asked.

Hal smiled and they walked to Carl's car. They got in and Carl leaned across to kiss him. A chaste peck on the cheek. He smiled at the echo of their first encounter.

"I heard what happened to you," Carl said, "I'm so sorry."

"No need, it's freed me. To be me, to be honest with myself, and with those I care about."

They arrived at Hal's hotel; it was literally a few minutes drive.

"Do you want to come up?" Hal suggested.

"I'm not sure we should," Carl hesitated.

"Oh, Okay. Are you single?"

"Yes, very single. I haven't trusted anyone to date since Mexico."

"Then come up and let's have a drink and that date that we promised ourselves a long time ago."

Carl hesitated and finally agreed.

They headed up to Hal's room, in the elevator Carl took his hand. In the doorway of the room, Carl kissed him, deep and aggressive. They closed the door behind them and were both naked in seconds.

They hit the bed, and, in a few minutes, Carl was sinking his cock deep into Hal's ass.

And in that moment, Hal knew he was home. He knew he was right where he belonged.