Baseball gods Stories

Crossing 45th Street with Eva. We’re friends. Close friends. Like me, Eva bats from both sides of the plate. Her words. Not mine.  Eva’s a baseball nut. Unlike me, she’s hot. Early 20s. Looks younger. Pert and pixie. Eyes follow her tight little ass wherever we go. Tonight it's our favorite hangout.  “Oh, my, God!” Eva stops in her tracks. I see what she means. A beautiful man. Six feet four. Probably more. Sculpted. Fine...