Page 109 of Friendzone Hockey
Man, I’ve fucked this up.
I catch his eyes in the mirror. They’re on me. On my hard dick to be exact. And is that a flush in his cheeks, or am I imagining what I want to be there?
Dash whips his boxers off and, fuck, have I ever made a huge mistake. We’re talking “I bought a ticket for the Titanic’s maiden voyage” kind of mistake. I didn’t account for the fact that all the blood in my body was gonna divert to my cock.
Why wouldn’t I, though?
More importantly, how could I forget that this is how a dick works? Especially my dick at the sight of Dash Nolan’s perfectly peach-shaped ass. The most beautiful ass I’ve ever seen. Mycock’s not all the way hard yet, but it’s gonna be. Is it weird if I keep my boxer shorts on? Don’t know, but that’s what I’m doing.
Dash turns around. I can’t help but notice that his dick’s the opposite of mine. Totally one hundred percent flaccid. What the fuck? So, he’s not even attracted to me anymore? Have I landed in the friendzone for real?
Even that’s not enough to flag my growing erection. But I do feel like a creeper in a shower. I avert my eyes from Dash’s creamy skin.
“Uh, you’re not gonna take those off?” he says. “C’mon, Stace. It’s not like I’m worried you’re gonna attack me with your dick—only Jack thinks that way. He probably thinks we’re filming something for Benduovr right now. Did you know that app has an option for uploading videos now? If I don’t make it in hockey, I can upload images of this sweet ass for money.”
My hand lands a smack on his bare ass outta nowhere. I didn’t plan it. I fucking swear. “Over my dead body, Nolan.”
A softouch-moan falls from Dash’s lips.
It makes my dick so much harder than I thought was possible.
Picturing Dash—my Dash—filming himself and putting it online for everyone to masturbate to has me seeing red.
“Take it back,” I demand, not recognizing my own voice.
“It’s my ass, I can put it on the internet if I want to.”
That’s Dash for, “What are you gonna do about it?” He’s such a fucking brat sometimes.
I crowd him from behind, desperately wanting to grab him by the throat, only the smallest sliver of control stops me. “Then your viewers are gonna be looking at a very sore, red ass.”
“Bet they’d pay extra for that.”
My hand lands again in the same spot.Hard.My ears love the crisp smack and the residual echo off the tile. This time, there’s a puffy red imprint. My palm, written on his asssurrounded by the outline of each of my fingers. I swear it’s pulsing.
“No. Forbidden, indefinitely.”
He smirks like he’s won something. “Take your shorts off, Alderchuck,” he says.
“Are you enjoying this?”
“Um, yeah, dude. Spanking’s my top fetish.” Spanking’smytop fetish. How has this never come up? “Now, c’mon. Lose ‘em.”
“I have a boner,” I admit. “It’s, uh, it’s been a while for me.” That’s the truth. I’m committed to this Dash and me thing. However long it takes.
I hate that he’s unaffected while I’m the most affected.
“This might be TMI—I dunno, I’m bad at judging that shit—but first the playoffs were making me so horny I had to beat it several times a day. Yesterday and today, it’s switched. It’s like my dick went on holiday or something. Fuck, maybe I’ve used up so much blood during practice, there’s none left for my cock.”
A laugh bubbles from my chest. What a fucking relief. Just too tired.
“Hey, don’t laugh! What I’m tryna say is, I don’t give a fuck. Off with the boxers, Alderchuck. Here, let me.”
Dash is gonna strip me? I can’t breathe. I’m gonna pass out. His fingers slip under my boxers and pull them down, lighting a trail of electricity over my skin as he goes. Out pops my one-helluva boner. Thank god it’s not leaking, but the skin’s so tight ithurts.
Dash—the center of my world Dash—leers at my dick. The one that’s hard for him.
“Wow, what’re you thinking about, Stace? Kevin Bieksa. It’s Kevin Bieksa again, isn’t it?”
