Tweener Baseball Pants Novels & Stories

The soft, flowing fabric draped elegantly over his frame, creating an air of sophistication and grace. Completing the ensemble, he selected a matching pair of churidar pants, their snug fit complementing the length of the sherwani. The pants, in a subtle shade of ivory, enhanced the overall aesthetic, providing a seamless harmony of colors. He secured them with a traditional waistband, adding a touch of refinement to his attire.

The dent it made was bigger than she thought it would be. She roughly tagged at his pants and soon he was stepping out of them, leaving him in just his black boxer briefs with a navy blue lining going around his waist. Fuck. His legs were muscular just like his entire figure but not as buff as Troy. Fucking hell why think about him now?

“Of course, Sunshine, give me ten minutes.” I lean in to kiss her on the forehead on my way to the bathroom. I took a shower this morning before Leera woke, so I just need to throw some water and a little gel in my hair and put on the suit I brought with me for game day. The pants are black straight legs and stop just at the ankle. I add a plain white button up, leaving the top couple of buttons undone, with a black, two-button jacket over the top. Then I finish off the look with some white Alexander McQueen low-top sneakers.

I need more. Lowering my hands, I hook my fingers into his waistband and tug so that they slip off his hips and fall soundlessly to the floor, his thick rod springing forward against my thigh and making my breath catch somewhere deep in my chest. Before I can reach for it, Tate matches my move, repeating the same thing for me, easily lifting me with one hand and effortlessly relieving me of my shorts and panties in one swift movement so that the only clothes left between us now is my sports bra.

I groaned. “And yeah, this polo. A simple woven fabric polo. This would show your sexy shape, your cupped chest would be visible in this.” He said as he raised the polo up as he tried picturing me in it. “Yeah, it's perfecto!!” He grinned as he threw it inside the trolley too. “Then you need this as well and then, this too!” He said as he picked up two pairs of black palms and also a black trouser. I had paid off using my black and gold Platinum card as we left the boutique.

His finger presses on the bare skin below the strap around my ankle. I grab my prepacked tennis shoes from my big shoulder bag and notice Trey's dark brown trail boots, which match his tan slacks and green button down shirt. His top button is undone and he's rolled the sleeves up to his elbows once again. It gives him a classic but business feel to him. He might be the CEO of a company, but he doesn't do the stuffy attire so many of my New York clients walked around with.

I stop and stare at him, confused and frightened as to why he sounds and looks so irritated all of a sudden. “Is anything the matter?” “That ridiculous sportswear you’re wearing is pissing me off.” He hisses and I purse my lips and take a look at myself once more. Black gym tights that are meant to be very fitting are sagging on me like surrender flags and the long-sleeved compression shirt isn’t compressing any part of my body because just like the tights, they are oversized. The sleeves of the shirt are longer than my arms and I had to fold them up to keep them in place but because I’m constantly in motion, the fold sleeves keep getting undone and I have to push up every now and then. That

Sweat-slick skin gleams in the light, my torso half-bared now, the undersides of my breasts visible under the baggy t-shirt still clinging. I kicked at the pajama pants next, starting with the thick flannel outer pair. The drawstring unties in a rough pull, and I shove them down my legs, stepping out aggressively, nearly stumbling in my haste. The jersey lounge pants followed, yanked to my ankles and flung aside with a foot. The cotton sleep shorts slide off just as fast, my thighs quivering from the exertion. The innermost silky pants come last for the bottoms, peeled down in a swift motion that exposes my panties. Lucien gulps visibly, his darkening even more than possible.

I was leaking precum already, a wet spot forming in my underwear as I tried — and failed — to focus on anything else. Nothing about football or the small toy behind the cabinets Aaron was talking about seemed to get into my head. The only thing I could focus on, the only damn thing in this whole room, was the outline of Aaron’s dick from the new grey sweatpants he was wearing now. The thick, heavy shape was unmistakable, hanging heavy against his thigh, the fabric clinging to it just enough to show the ridge of the head and the way it twitched when he moved. Small hairs trailed from his deep V-line down into the waistband, disappearing under the material.

Daby said amusingly. “You see? A total dick,” I said, sitting on the bed. “So, he’s a total hottie, then?” Daby asked playfully as she put her makeup on. “I don’t know. I didn’t look at him,” I replied defensively. The evening took place, and it was time for dinner at Mr. Leister’s ceremony. The evening went cold as the wind blew over the leaves, giving it a welcoming atmosphere. Being unprepared, I wore a single piece of cloth with a bum short, which made me feel more unwelcoming.