The League

The buzzer had sounded ending the game. After shooting the puck along the ice off the side board I followed my team mates off the ice and toward the locker room. Fred Watts, the talented left wing on my line wearing number 28, came up beside me.

The game had gone well for me. My short wrist shot at 14:13 of the third period had tied the score. It had beaten a fair goal keeper on his glove side to the upper corner.

The locker room was quiet at 11:45 pm owing partially to the fact that the game had slipped away in the final minute. The 6 to 5 loss to the Dolphins was felt acutely by all of us on the team.

My love of the game and desire to find a boyfriend in a venue other than the bar scene had enticed me to join the league. By now, 7 games into my first season, Fred and I had become quite friendly.

In the shower beside me Fred Watts lathered his five foot ten muscular body while I gazed at him. Players walked into the multiple shower stall and back to their lockers but none held my attention except Fred. He exuded sex appeal.

Dressed, I headed for the exit. My next stop might be my apartment where I could crash for the night. I was tired from a day at the office, an hour at the gym, then the game.

"Todd wait up," he called.

I stopped and turned. He was three steps from me carrying his equipment bag over his left shoulder.

He had been observing behavior since the evening began. Not much that went on escaped my attention either. The league had spawned a few romances since I joined it just a few weeks ago. Players walked out together holding hands.

Halfway to our cars we began to engage each other in some gossip.

"Billy and Joe will probably get it on tonight."

I nodded in agreement. "It would not surprise me."

Billy Stuart, the second line left wing, stood five foot eight. A full lipped blond with gray eyes, he dressed in black denim jeans, blue sweat shirt under blue plaid flannel, and leather bombardier jacket.

Joe West, a defense man, stood perhaps an inch shorter. His dark brown hair, parted on the left, flattered his triangular face. His deep brown eyes fixed on Billy.

Fred and I reached our cars parked near but not next to each other. My yawn signaled that it was too late to do anything other than go to sleep. He said he felt the same way but his brief gaze into my eyes suggested otherwise.

Scoping out each other in the shower was something we all did.

"Which one of those two would you fuck?"

"Billy," Fred responded. "He's got a cock that won't quit. He can put that inside me any time."

I chuckled. "You got that right," I replied with a grin.

Three nights later the game started and ended much earlier. At 9 we came back into the locker room. This time was a happier occasion. A 5 - 0 win put the team in a boisterous mood.

"We really smoked 'em," said our third line right wing.

"We did," I agreed. "It was the best game I saw you play."

Michael Coates on the third line had played 14 minutes. Though not especially skilled he had great skating speed. Often near the net looking for rebounds, this one was golden. It was only his second of the season.

Outside the ice palace in the cold night air Fred caught up with me.

"What took you so long?"

He giggled. "I had to check out the boys."

"And get a boner," I answered.

"Listen I was wondering if you wanted to go for a beer."

"Sounds like a plan," I replied.

The 77 Bar, on a busy street corner located only two miles from the rink, had been part of the gay social scene for the past ten years. Hockey players had frequented the place as did the more effeminate types or at least the non athletes. Beer was cheap there and a few big screen color television sets entertained patrons. It was our sports bar because the "straights" had their sports bars.

A few of the players from both teams were there when Fred and I walked into the place and sat on side by side. The barkeep, a tall fellow with slightly graying hair at the temples, looked to be about fifty-something. His demeanor was friendly.

"What will it be?"

"Michelob," I replied.

"I'll have the same."

The TV to our right was showing NHL Classics, an old game between the Rangers and Islanders.

Suddenly inhibitions disappeared and pent up passions found release. Fred leaned and pressed his lips hard against mine. I returned the kiss. Burning with passion, we pushed our tongues into each other's mouths. Neither of us cared who was watching.

By ten thirty we had arrived back at the red brick building where I lived in a second floor apartment. Entering 5B through the living room I closed the door softly behind us. We stared lustfully into each other's eyes.

Our lips pressed lightly together, mouths opened and our tongues licked. In the privacy of home we could could do more than just kiss. I felt my jeans being opened and his hand going gently into my briefs. His other hand squeezed my buttocks. Looking down I saw him pulling down my shorts. While we continued to kiss his hand closed tight around my cock pulling the foreskin. His sex stiffened straining against his briefs.

Just seconds later we walked naked, hand in hand into my bedroom. I lay back in the soft mattress with my knees pulled up to my chest. My lover moved into position kneeling, leaning forward, rubbed my pectoral muscles and my nipples then pushed his sex into the orifice. I moaned softly as it rocked deep inside me.

"Don't stop!"

"I'm gonna fuck you good baby!"

"Don't stop! It feels so good."

While his pelvis slapped repeatedly against my buttocks I closed my hand around my own sex and jerked it. The pleasure I felt as his sex rubbed against my insides was intense.

At four in the morning, wide awake, I walked into my bathroom.

"Come back to bed."

"Give me a minute."

"I'll give you 30 seconds."

Back on the bed some two minutes later, I began to rub his back down to his ass.

"You think Billy has a big cock?" I asked.

"Shit yeah," he answered, "and Joe has a cute little bubble butt, like yours."

I chuckled.