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?" the man's voice called out curiously, and I heard hisfootsteps stop briefly before my stall before passing on. "Anybody inhere?"Nope, nobody here buddy. Nobody at all; just ignore the pregnant manbehind stall #1, I thought nervously as I bit my lip, trying to project mywill upon the guy to get the hell out.My heart nearly leaped up my throat as he suddenly knocked on the stalldoor next to me, then a few moments later paused, then knocked on mine. Iwinced as I felt my stomach tying itself up in knots, sweat beading on myforehead. A wave of dizziness swept over me, and I couldn't suppress asmall gasp as both hands went to my swollen belly.I heard the footsteps that had been walking past stop and begin retreatingback to my stall, but I couldn't summon the will to care; my insides feltlike they were on fire. Gritting my teeth, I put one arm against the stallto keep from falling over when I suddenly felt a tingling sensationcreeping over my skin.Looking down, I was shocked to see. . the wine had taken the edge off any inhibitions so I said "OK Im interested in trying it if your up for it"He finished the last of his drink and got up and smiled.. "Why waste time" .I left the last of my glass and we walked out the door. I though we would go back to his place or mine but instead he walked up the alleyway between the bar and the adjacent building.The shadows were long and it was relatively private. I was a bit uncertain what to do.. I was totally out of my comfort zone but still intrigued by the prospect of something differentWithout speaking. Gille stopped and reached out for my cock and stroked it through my Jeans. I was hard in an instant. Without a word he unzipped my fly and had my pulsating cock in his hand.Dropping to his knees he started to suck with long deep strokes. MY GOD I LOVED IT!!!He licked my balls and gently sucked each one before returning to my throbbing cock.I was so caught up in the moment I didn't notice that we`d been followed. Without.
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But I had never been superstitious. I'd never cared about mystical stuff; it had always seemed like bullshit to me. I certainly didn't worry about black cats, or stepping on the baseline when I left the playing field.But now. I felt like a hitter when Sandy was there. I even forgot, a couple of times, to put on my Captain America goggles when I went up to the plate.But when Sandy wasn't there, I felt a little empty. Hard to admit something like that. It was like being kind of weak: it made me feel effeminate, even, although I knew there were plenty of women around who were as strong-willed as the strongest man.Whatever it was, I felt it. Maybe if Sandy wasn't around, my hitting slump would wear off, all on its own, and I'd be OK.But I doubted it, and, earlier, it had been driving me nuts, waiting for it to happen, and watching my batting average nose-dive.First game at Fenway, I went four for four -- all singles -- and we won, 6-2. That put us six games over .500 for the first time.

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