Trevor arrived and I instantly flashed back to my high school summer days. He had a baseball jersey and jeans, looking straight off the pitcher’s mound, spiked hair with enough gel to use as lube, and pecs and biceps for days. He made me remember the hot summer days when I’d hang out at the local baseball field, watching classmates swing away at balls with their bats. Then, when it’d get too hot, they’d strip down to just their jeans and I could watch the sweat trickle down their perfect bodies. Trevor was an exact replica of those guys. He took off that baseball jersey and jeans and began working his bat through a cute little pair of black and hot pink underwear. I kept catching glimpses of the head of his cock and shivered with anticipation. Once he was fully hard, he lost the underwear and began stroking his bat with a healthy handful of lube (from a bottle, not his hair). I just kept watching, intently, knowing this was all leading up to a very hot finish. Indeed it did. Trevor hit a homerun, knocking cum out of the park, or his dick rather, all over the bed and his chest. What didn’t drizzle down his pec, he rubbed into his stomach, clearly his way of patting himself on the back for a game well played.