Page 147 of Friendzone Hockey
I’m pretty close. Watching him play with himself’s doing things to me. Plus it’s Dash, my Dash. Everything about him’s mine now. I already claimed him with my cock last night.
“Stroke yourself, sweetheart. Dip your finger all the way inside, get yourself lubed up for me.”
Dash’s cheeks flush. He’s on display for me and he knows it. He makes himself cry out when his finger sinks deep enough, and the stroking has his hips rocking in time with the motions.
“Please, baby. Please fill me so full.”
My resolve is razor thin. “Hands on the bed.”
I make him stay like that, spreading his cheeks open, twisting two thick fingers inside. His greedy ass eats them, disappearing into nothing every time I pump them in and out of him. He makes croak-y groaning noises as his orgasm builds.
I squeeze his nuts.
“Stace!”
“No coming yet.”
“Fuck, I know,” he groans, slackening his muscles in utter resignation. I almost feel sorry for him.
Kneeling closer, I settle my cock between his cheeks, rubbing it back and forth over his hole. He whimpers and pleads and threatens my manhood, but quickly realizes that’s counterproductive.
“Just … please. Put it in me, baby. I’ve been so good.”
Maybe he shouldn’t find out how dick whipped I am? Think it’s too late for that one, though. He gives me the eyes, the ones I cave to every time.
I lean over to suck a fat hickey onto his neck, right where everyone can see it, as I ease my cock into his pucker, enjoying the automatic clench as it’s suctioned inside. “This what you wanted?”
“Mhmm.”
It’s hard to believe this is real. Guess I’m reeling in a different way than Dash is. It does feel a bit like I might open my eyes, and all this will have been a dream. It’s happened plenty of times over the years.
“Don’t you dare come until I tell you to.” I punctuate that with a smack to the side of his ass. I pull back and thrust hard until my hips are flush with his backside. And then I do exactly what he asked—what he begged me to do. I use him hard, working him over more than anything we’ve done on the ice,bringing him to the edge, backing off, spreading him until his muscles shake.
Wet sounds squelch in time with the spring of the mattress. Dash begs until his throat is hoarse. As much as I want to let him come, his needs come first. Dash needs to feel what we feel after a hard practice. A practice that’s broken down and reformed our muscles. The bone-deep soreness, the exhaustion born from utter devotion.
Dash’s brain, heart, and body are three separate things. I’ve won over the first two, but his body needs to feel me.
I flip him over and sink right back into him, digging my fingers into his hips. I feast on his neck between fucking him senseless and turning his head so I can kiss him.
“Didn’t I tell you I’d show you?”
“Yes.”
“You’re mine. This body’s mine. Everything about you is fucking mine.”
I shove his leg up, so I can sink deeper.
His prostate’s ultra-sensitive by this point, even the lightest slides of my cock pull pleasure-filled cries from him. It’s a good thing everyone’s gone. I don’t want them hearing those screams from him. I wasn’t thinking about it last night, but I am now. The new house will need soundproofing.
I turn him over again, I want to see his face when he comes. He’s my beautiful ragdoll by this point, moving into whatever position I arrange him in, but still enough lungs on him to demand what he wants.
“If you’re not gonna let me come, Alderchuck, have the fucking decency to go harder.Harder.”
“Your wish…”
I roll my hips, slapping against his with bruising force, until he can’t get the words out.
“Can I … can I please, Stacey?”
