(Mike's POV)

Every time I think about it--going home, the party, everything--I keep having this flashback to my 10th grade English class...Mrs. Bucknee.  Shit, that's going way back...Of course, we called her Mrs. Fuck-me.  What else?  She was pretty hot, too, as far as teachers go, when you're 15 and everyone over 25 is a grandma.  Anyway, she used to make us write an essay after every single break we had.  You know the one, What I Did Over Whatever Vacation.  Did you ever actually count how many breaks there are in any given school year?  Summer, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Winter , Easter,  Spring .  What the hell?  We were fifteen.  What did she think we did on all those days off?

Dear Mrs. Fuck-me,

     Here's what I did over summer vacation.  Sleep late, eat breakfast, watch hot babes exercising on ESPN, jerk-off, eat lunch, watch fat old neighbor dig in her garden, pretend she's hot ESPN babe, jerk-off again, eat dinner, lock self in room while playing loud obnoxious music, look at Dad's old Hustler's I rescued from the garbage can, jerk-off one last time, go to sleep.  It sure was a lot of fun.  Can't wait til next year. Oh yeah, sometimes I went swimming and played hockey and even watched TV, too.
                                                                                                                                              Your truly,
                                                                                                                                              Michael M.

Ha!  Too bad I couldn't have one more shot at that assignment!  She'd love this one!

Dear Mrs. Fuck-me,

     My summer vacation was the best ever!  I spent time back home with my family, went to lots of parties, hooked up with a very hot guy, spent an entire weekend fucking each other's brains out, and  made lots of money shooting promos.  What more could a guy ask for?  Had a ball.  Oh okay, so I had two.  Man, wish I had them right now.
                                                                                                                                               Yours truly,
                                                                                                                                                Mike M.

That's all true, by the way.  I really did go home to visit my family.  And it was just dumb luck that I was in town the week of Kris Draper's birthday bash.  My invitation must have got lost in the mail, but I ended up there, anyway.  Most people don't realize what a tight-knit community the Detroit area is for it's athletes and other local celebrities.  There really aren't that many of us, so we tend to gravitate to the same hang-outs over and over.  And let's face it, we're talking about Detroit, for crissakes.  Not exactly a hotbed for social culture and nightlife.  The Downtown Athletic Club is pretty much The Place.  If you spend just a few nights here, you'll see everyone there is to see.  At least twice.  And since our team washed out in the second round and we had an early start on the summer, I just wanted to go home.  Relax, spend some time catching up, forget about hockey for a couple weeks, look up some of the old gang.  That lasted for all of four days.  Then I ran into Darren McCarty at the Club.  We got to talking, turned that into dinner, and he told me about the party they had planned for Drapes that Saturday night.  It was a surprise for his 32nd birthday.  What the hell?  Sounded like a plan.  And these guys were a barrel of laughs, so I went.

Darren actually rented a house for the weekend. That should have been my first clue.  Almost the entire team was there, plus a bunch of ex-Wings-- Marty, Kozzie, Murph, Pushor, Probie, Ozzie, Mike, Dino, even Domi flew in. It was like a reunion or something. How come my teammates never did stuff like this?  There were people everywhere!  Wives, girlfriends, soon-to-be-friends.  And everybody was drinking and partying.  Darren also rented bartenders.  Lots of them.  Clue number two.  One on each floor.  One on the deck.  One out by the pool.  Pool?  It's May in Michigan!  Is he nuts?   He also brought the entertainment.  That was the final clue.  Kid Rock. Better known as the Toxic Rocker.  Illegal substances followed him everywhere.  Hell, one big happy family!  All in all, this little Birthday Bash, as Darren called it, had all the makings of one wild ride.  Maybe even two or three...

By the time I got there, it was in full swing and I felt a little out of place.  I don't think Kris even knew who he was anymore, much less who I was! I wished him a happy one anyway and grabbed myself a drink.

"Hey, no shit, you made it!  Good to see ya, man,"  It was Brett.  "Heard you were in town.  Thanks for calling me, you sonovabitch.  Carried your ass for all those years and this is the thanks I get..."

"Fuck you, too, Brett.  Good to see ya,"  I said, shaking his hand and ending up in a big bearhug.  Brett was halfway to shitfaced.

"Interested in a little gaming?"  I actually missed that idiotic grin of his, I thought as he was talking to me.

"Does shit float?  Lead the way."  I answered and he draped his arm over my shoulders and headed for the gameroom, which turned out to be on the lower level and every bit as crowded.

The usual suspects were tossing down large bills at several different games going on throughout the room.

"Same old, same old?"  Brett asked, not even waiting for my answer.  He led me straight to the blackjack table.  Apparently Darren also hired dealers.  Damn fine bash, Mac.  Damn fine.

The table looked like a Red Wings bench!  Guess this was their game of choice.  I can understand that.

"Hey,"  I said to the table in general as I pulled out a chair.

"Mike,"  Probie said.

"Yo, Mo,"  Dino said.

"Hey,"  Ozzie said.  "Hope you got your wallet."

"Good to see you, Mike," Shanny said.

"What's up,"  Kirk said.

"Mr. Modano,"  Dom always was an ass...

Brett and I sat down, each of us laying out a stack of bills.  And many hours and many more drinks later, I tried to get back up to find a bathroom.  It took a couple tries, but I found my way back to my feet and stumbled off toward the hallway.

"Mo's fuckin'  wasted," I heard Brendan laughing as I walked away.  You don't say...

I was just zipping up when Ozzie walked in.  He was swaying and reached for the wall to steady himself.

"Hey Oz, you alright?  You're not looking too good there."  Fuck!  The hell he didn't!  He looked
downright...What the shit, Mo?  Don't even say it.  Where'd that come from?  Damn, Brendan's right.  I'm fuckin' wasted. Must be.

"Fine.  I'm fine.  Been sittin' down for too long, that's all. That and I'm losing my ass!"  Now why did he have to say that?

And I still don't know what the hell made me do what I did next.  I walked over to Chris and put my hands on his hips, spinning him around til he was standing with his back to me.

"Nope," I actually said, "your ass is still here and still lookin' mighty fine."  Fuuuuuck.

The quick movement threw him totally off balance and he fell back against me, pushing both of us into the wall.  Thud.  That was my head hitting the marble.  Ozzie rolled himself along my shoulder until he was turned around, facing me, trying to push himself upright off my chest..

"What the fuck, Mo?  Are you fucking crazy?"  He had a hand planted on either side of my head, arms straining as he held himself up.

My mouth was working, but no words were coming out.  Ah, Christ.  Christ.  What did I just do?  It's Chris, for crissakes.  Fuck, he's gonna kick my ass!  Fuck me, Mo.  Oh, God, what if he tells everyone?  They'll all kick my ass!

"I..I..sorry.  I'm sorry.  Don't know what the hell I..."  That was all I managed to get out before his mouth came down on mine, sucking hard at my lips, parting them roughly with his tongue.  The rest of my apology just turned into one long loud moan.  My whole body went limp and I fell back into the wall with Ozzie plastered to the front of me trying his damnedest to lick my tonsils.  Thud.  That one was my cock slamming against the zipper of my Levi's.  Making a liar outta me.

It was over as abruptly as it had begun.  I was still propped against the wall, my arms out to keep me from sliding down to the floor and Ozzie was still in that amazing arm-straining pose.  And he was smiling.

"Fuck, Mo, next time lock the goddamn door,"  he leaned in and dragged his tongue across my mouth. "Or better yet, just tell me when you're ready to go upstairs."  Then he turned and left.

I stayed put, shocked and panting, as he walked out the door chuckling.

Did that just happen?  I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to the mirror.  Face flushed.  Eyes all weird.  Lips swollen.  Front of jeans even more swollen.  Yup.  I'd say it did.  Fuck me again.  That means Oz did say that stuff about going upstairs.  That did not help the situation down below my belt.

I pulled my shirt out and left it untucked.  There.  Mostly solved that problem.  Now I just had to find the balls to open the door and go back to the table.  Jesus.  What the hell was I thinking?  Still don't know.  But I headed back anyway.

"Yo, Mike, did you fall in or what?"  Brett was now completely shitfaced, one eye wider than the other.  A dead giveaway.  Thank God, at least he wouldn't notice...And nobody else was paying any attention.  Except Chris.  And I am not going to look at him.  Nope.

He had different ideas.

 Ozzie just had to put his two cents in.  "Something like that. Right, Mo?"

I studied my cards real hard, willing the color to stay out of my face.  I turn red at the drop of a hat.  And it sucks.  Thanks alot, Mom.  And I think the dealer's looking at me funny.  Shit.

We went back to playing cards for about another hour.  My stack of bills was considerably smaller and I was  considerably more intoxicated.  There were only four of us left at the table at this point.  And I think our combined losses should more than cover the cost of this entire little get-together!  Mac, you fucker...

I still refused to look at Chris.  But that didn't mean I wasn't thinking about him.  Could still taste him on my lips.  Could still feel his tongue in my mouth.  Could still hear him talking to me.  No, wait.  He really is talking to me.

"You ready yet, Mo?"

What?!

"Hey, Mike...."  His head was tilted to the side, eyebrows raised, and Ozzie sounded as loaded as I was....

I took a deep breath, trying to dig up some courage.  Fuck it!  I turned my head, my eyes locking on his.
"Been ready, Oz.  Let's get outta here,"  There, I said it.

We both tossed our cards down, pocketed the rest of our money, drained our glasses and stood up to leave.  And neither of us said a word as we turned around and walked toward the stairs.  I let him go first mostly cause I didn't know where I was headed, and also so I could watch his ass as he climbed the steps.  Might as well do this up right, eh, Mo?

He turned into one of the last open doors in the hallway, closing and locking it behind us.  Oh boy.  This is weird.  Wasn't planning on anything like this.  Especially not with Ozzie...Not really my type...Too light...Too young...Fuck, he's a goalie!  Everybody knows goalies are just plain strange...Shit, Mo, you're rambling...

Chris walked over to me and casually reached down and grabbed my balls right through my jeans.  He squeezed harder and harder as he leaned in and sucked my earlobe into his mouth.  Working it over with his teeth.  Setting the tone for this crazy encounter.  Two can play that game.

I reached down and undid my belt, popped the snap and slid down the zipper.  Then I covered Chris' hand with mine and pushed it up to cover my cock.

"You like that, Oz?" I asked him.  His answer was a wet moan against my ear and a hand tightening around my hard-on.  Hell, I liked it.

I liked it a lot.  So I turned my face into his and caught his mouth with mine.  He was surprisingly tasty and I spent some time licking and sucking at his lips.  Getting reacquainted with his tongue.  Chris liked it, too, because his hand was moving steadily up and down my prick, trying to pull me closer as he stroked.

I worked my jeans down over my hips, letting them fall and stepping out of them while I grasped Chris by his shoulders.  My mouth lifted off his and I pushed down hard til he was on his knees.

"You know what I want.  Now suck it, Chris"  My voice was sounding a little shaky right about then and I could feel Chris' breath warm on my dick.  Wasn't sure what his reaction would be, though, so I was kinda surprised when his tongue snaked out to touch me.  His hands wrapped around to my ass as he licked up and down my shaft with long, slow, hot strokes.  Completely covering me with thin wet streaks.  But never taking me into his mouth.  Instead he worked over my balls.  One at a time he'd suck them through his lips, rolling them around on his tongue, biting at each one.  His own brand of torture.

"You like to give orders, Mo?" he asked between licks.  "Better start talkin', cause I just forgot what I was doin' down here."

No shit.  He just knelt there, waiting.  Good one, Ozzie.  Very smooth.  But you'll get yours.

My cock was throbbing in anticipation.  Oh yes, Ozzie was very good, indeed.  Downright evil.  But I'm calling
his bluff...

"I want your tongue on my cock again...I want to feel you licking up and down my thick, hard shaft...Yeah, like that...just like that...Don't forget the other side...That's it...Now open your mouth...I want to watch while you suck me right through those hot fuckin' lips of yours...Mmmmmm...Very good, Chris... All the way...take it all the way...right down your throat...I know you can...I know you want to...Fuck, that feels good...now suck on it...  Harder...Oh yeah...perfect...In...Out...Come on...you know what to do...In...Out...Keep it slow...Now bite down...Just a little...Ohhhhh, fuck, yeah...Faster...easy, Oz...that's the way...That's so goddamn good...Mmmmm...let me feel that tongue...faster...like that...keep that up and I'm gonna come...You want me to come, Chris?  Do you?  You want me to fill your mouth?  All hot and thick and creamy?  Well, I want to...fuck yeah...I'm going to...right now...right down your throat...Ready for me, Chris?  Ahhhh...Here it comes...."

Holy fuck!  That's the only coherent thought I could form as I pumped in and out of Ozzie's mouth, finally burying my cock deep in his throat, filling him with cum.  And he swallowed every last drop, licking me clean when I was done.  I repeat.  Holy.  Fuck.

While I stood there panting, Chris was busy licking his way from my extremely happy cock, over my abs, across my chest, up to my neck.  Peeling my shirt off as he went.  He was tight to me and his own cock was raging wildly against my thigh, still trapped in the jeans he was wearing, so my hands reached down and unbuttoned them.  One button at a time.  Freeing his dick from its heavy denim confines.  Wow.  Just fucking wow.  You did good, Mo.  Yes you did.

Ozzie was sucking on my neck while he wriggled his way out of his jeans, and then his shirt, leaving him as naked as I was.

"It's my turn to give the orders this time, Michael," he drawled into my ear.  "Now get your ass up on that bed.  Right fucking now."

TBC