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Another Non-Discipline,sex only Nifty story by PJ Franklin in the gay, adult youth section:
Paying Back The Ranch Hand: paying-back-the-ranch-hand/
* * * * * * * * * *
Other Nifty stories by PJ Franklin in the gay, authoritarian section:
Jesse: Nebraska Rancher's Son: nebraska-ranchers-son/
Twenty Minutes To Midnight: twenty-minutes-to-midnight/
Dog Star: dog-star/
My Sarg, His Son, The Lieutenant and Me: my-sarge-his-son-the-lieutenant-and-me.html
A Foresmark New Boy: foresmark-newboy.html
Presidential Executive Order #137099: presidential-executive-order.html
Go All The Way: go-all-the-way.html
Story note: Many of my stories have discipline and domination themes. This was does not, it is a high school aged romance in the making. Enjoy!
I love ice hockey, playing it, watching it, especially the Penguins. I love that Pittsburgh team because of their captain super star, Sid Crosby. I love the game for itself, but truthfully, I love it even more for who plays it, boys, especially boys that play it at my level in high school.
See, by the time I've reached my sophomore year and have seen every hot boy on my varsity high school ice hockey team in the locker room and showers, fully naked after games and practice, I know what I like in my peer-aged gender group. I've checked them thoroughly out with my eyes, especially their bare asses, cocks and balls. Yes, I'm just a sixteen year old sophomore, but I'm good enough to play a forward position on the varsity squad, usually right wing, so I get to check out the naked junior and senior players and their nice equipment and more muscular bodies.
I've always known I love my own gender since I was about ten years old, but had gone to such great pains up till now to very carefully guard that secret that I was entirely inexperienced. I sure would like that to end or at least that's what my new fantasy was as a new guy that I haven't seen before on our squad skates onto the rink's practice ice.
There's something about him, I mean besides he's about six foot one and about 190, a fucking stud, obviously a defenseman. He's got this look, a look I love, one that says that the referee will tag anyone knocking this guy around with a two minute interference penalty because like the rule says, you cannot unduly knock around a player who "owns" the ice he stands on. This guy definitely has the look and feel of owning whatever he stands on, ice or otherwise!
He's obviously self-possessed and confident, something not easy to come by at our level of play. I think I know him from somewhere somehow, but I'm not sure until the centerman on my line leans into me as we are sitting on the ice stretching, warming up for practice.
"Hey, check it out, that's Brad Lewis," Jason whispers to me. The name sounds vaguely familiar, "Have I heard of him before?" I ask.
"Remember? He's the dude from up state that got caught screwing with another guy after a game a few months ago."
My chest starts to ache with a kind of empathy I usually don't get to practice much, but it's heavily tinged with a sadness as well. Now I remember, it's Brad Lewis, the one that NHL scouts had their eye on from an early age for his massive talent and promise; but you don't get caught having sex with another guy in high school hockey in my conservative upper mid-western state and not have everyone notice.
Worse, you can kiss your potential professional career adios and good-bye. You may play on a small college team after high school with that kind of stunt under your belt, but not in the CMJHL (Canadian Major Junior Hockey League) or in a NCAA Division One school.
"What's he doing here?" I whisper back to Jason.
Jason grins and nudges me in the ribs, "To check you out, what else!"
OK, well, Jason knows my interest in boys. That's a funny story. Like I said, I have checked out each and every naked boy in the lockers at one time or another, including Jason. He caught me doing it, but said it was cool. I could so easily fall in love with Jason, but he's straight as an arrow. Jason also looks out for my back (like right now) and teases me a ton, which I love.
I kind am already figuring out on the fly that Lewis' parents may have moved their family down state in an effort to keep the news of their son's indiscretion at a minimum and still be able to play high school hockey. Our school was middle to low rung in status and standing in the state's high school ice hockey world. In essence, Lewis would have come here to hide out and play and just basically finish out his short lived career. Very sad, very wrong too if you ask me.
I manage to suppress most of my blush, "Shut up, he probably was just experimenting and got really unlucky," and watch Lewis get down on the ice and start his stretching routine.
"Well, maybe his unlucky is your lucky, want me to introduce you to him?" Jason teases me, but just then Coach Pooley blows his whistle and interrupts my overactive imagination.
We are into early summer league practice and play, but don't tell that to Coach. He will treat every summer practice and scrimmage or games with other schools just like in the fall and winter league play, as the real thing. That means skate hard, play hard and no let-ups. Discipline with Coach Pooley is simple, screw around and he will make us skate our asses off, up and down the long axis of the rink until we nearly drop dead on our skates!
I manage to keep my concentration as practice starts. I practice with my fellow forwards at one end of the rink and catch myself glancing over at Brad Lewis only once as he is practicing with the defensemen at the other end. Then, when it is time to scrimmage, I smile. I am on Brad Lewis' team and we all get to see him in action, shooting. Fuck! What a slap shot! Our goalie seems to reel back just a little more than usual blocking his hard, speedy shot.
Then we start a power play scrimmage, practicing when we might have a two minute one man advantage because the other team is penalized for some kind of on-ice infraction. Lewis is on the right point out by the blue line, I am the right winger off to the right of the face-off circle. Our centerman tames the faceoff and passes me the puck to the boards deep into the zone. I spy Lewis waiting far out on the same-side point and pass him the puck.
Lewis one-times it, a massive slap shot from the point and scores over the goalies right shoulder! Holy fucking shit! All the guys stop to admire Lewis after the shot, even the goalie and Coach Pooley. Then Lewis nodds at me, acknowledges my pass to him and I nod back and get the chills, in several places on my body! In a real game or scrimmage, Lewis would be credited with one point for the goal, I would gain a point for the assist, so would the centerman.
Practice proceeds and I get even more excited towards the end, hoping to see him in the rink's locker room and showers after practice, but Lewis does not use the lockers after practice. I am very disappointed, but you dont have to use the lockers and showers after summertime practices or games. Damn!
In fact, two weeks pass by and Lewis never uses the lockers before or after our summertime practices. I guess I don't blame him. If he likes boys as I do, it has cost him dearly and he will be in no mood to talk or face any of his new teammates, at least for the time being and Coach Pooley surely is bound to give him a lot of time and space.
Another week passes by and we have played two practice games against another team and bury them both times, that is Brad does, almost single-handedly. He scores three goals, called a hat-trick, in each game, all six goals blasted from his right sided blue line position, two of them power play goals on account that the opposing players got called for interference penalties, in other words, illegally checking (hitting) a player without the puck, Brad in this case. I had received an assist point on each of those power play goals, having passed the puck directly to Brad from low in the zone. Each time, Brad skated up to me, "Nice pass Benson."
"Thanks!" I smiled, but that was all that was said between us.
Another week's worth of practice passes by, then another practice game with a different high school. In that game, we have another power play. As we take control of the puck in the disadvantaged team's rink end, we five players cycle the puck around some, basically playing "keep-away" from the other team's four players. I see an opening to pass the puck to Brad, expecting him to blast a one-time slap-shot from his usual position on the right point. So does the other team and they start to move to block the shot. Brad fakes his shot as I drift undetected into the left side of the slot in front of the goalie.
Brad skates towards the slot, the other team's players frantic to prevent him from shooting and when they do, he deftly deals me a crisp pass that ends up on the sweet spot of my stick blade and all I have to is flick it past the goalie to score! Wow! I am kind of geeked and our side cheers a bit. He skates up to me grinning. I don't think any of us have ever seen Brad Lewis grin before or at least not me, "Nice score Benson!" he says. "Thanks for the great pass!" I grin back.
But once again, when the game ends and most all of us head for the lockers and showers, Brad Lewis does not, as usual. Then, at the last moment, he turns and walks towards me,
"Hey Benson, grab your gear, come home with me. We can hang out, play video games and stuff."
I am stunned, but then look over at Jason. Jason is grinning ear to ear. What has he done? Or more likely, said to Brad Lewis? Jason nods his head towards Brad, winks and then turns and disappears into the lockers.
I shrug, "OK!" and grab my stuff and follow the big defenseman, me already getting anxiously excited!
He has his own car, something I do not have and my dad is waiting for me in the parking lot. A quick explanation to dad is no problem and he takes off, actually wishing me luck! I head for Brad's car and gladly put my hockey gear duffle into the trunk of his car and my heart is racing with an excitement I have never know before and get into the passenger side of Brad's car.
I close the door and then just sit there. We look around us, there is nobody in sight and only a few cars at that.
"So, I suppose you know all about me?" Brad says out of the blue with just a hint of bitterness. I guess at what he means, but my empathy is quick to respond, "I've only heard rumors. I hate rumors," and I am truthful.
"Jason talked to me about you, "Brad replies. The comment does not surprise me now, but what he says still makes me tremble and blush a little anyway and I make sure that I look away from him, reminding myself to thank Jason later whether things work out or not.
At any rate, the next thing I know, I feel my face being involuntarily turned and suddenly, there are Brad's lips about an inch away from mine! I can smell his breath even. It is unbelievably sweet, but it is still quite a shock to be so close to his face so out of the blue! I have never kissed a boy, maybe Brad has. I freeze, not sure what to do! His lips move very close, then he kisses me! He just gently presses his soft lips to mine very briefly, then backs off, self-consciously even, turning his head and looking around in front of us and to his side of the car.
Then he starts the car and puts it into gear and starts to drive our out of the parking lot, looking straight ahead. I am still totally stunned from the gentle kiss and don't know what to do or say, so I just look straight ahead, my stomach somewhere up around my neck and my dick threatening to give me absolute hell!
"Shocked?" he finally asks. Was I? I swallowed, "A little, I mean, that was really unexpected even if Jason did talk to you about me."
"I've noticed you, that's for sure. You're a good forward and I like playing with all the guys. I guess that's what got me in trouble back at my school. I kissed him first and we both got carried away after that. Both of us did. Got careless. But all that is too late now. Sorry if I upset you. I can be over the top sometimes, a weakness of mine."
"I'm not upset, really, it's just … I've never been kissed before and I don't think it's a weakness," I say, feeling myself tremble now, feeling a little helpless.
"You? Never kissed? A cute guy like you? I don't believe it," he says with an attractive smile. I relax and start to really look at him as he drives us to his home, neither of us saying anymore more for the time being, me wishing I could have been so bold as to have given him a first kiss.
When we arrive at his place, he shows me inside and directly into his bedroom where he starts to strip off! I just stand there and after he bares his chest, he smiles at me,
"Don't be bashful man, strip off. We'll shower and then get some grub and stuff and have fun."
I nod and start to strip off much more slowly than him, hoping to see evidence of his interest in me. I do ot. I am barely stripped to my jock strap as he stands there with a very big and hard erection, seemingly unperturbed and I am soon very much in the same condition. I must admit, I feel small before him and with my inexperience, very vulnerable. He grins,
"You know what, you're hot, and I'm kind of horny, as you can see."
I nod as I scan his magnificent body up and down, settling on his wagging erection,
"Me too," I say through a dry mouth. I have no idea things can go this fast.
"Kiss again?" he asks. I nod in the definite affirmative.
He comes right up to me, towering a little over three inches taller than me. His body scent is strong smelling and wet with sweat still, as is mine. He leans over, puts his hand gently behind my sweat-wet head and this time his lips press harder into mine. Our hard dicks are now twitching and batting against each other and should be maximally distracting if not for the fact that his tongue is gently asking to enter my mouth. I have fantasized about French kissing another boy for months and now it is actually about to happen if I want it to.
I part my lips and invite him inside, but instead of charging like a bull into the china shop, his tongue shyly slides in towards mine. As soon as my tongue touches his, my chest tightens with such a mind spinning emotion and needful lust that I am even in danger of a sudden ejaculation of my rapidly building load and at the same time realize that my interest in boys is no fluke, if there had been any doubts. Apparently I am not alone.
Brad moans and presses his whole taller body into mine, our dicks cross-pressing much harder now, so much so I have to back off of him,
"Sorry! It's just … "and he parts the kiss and grins,
"Me too! It's so hot! Come on, we can shower later," and Brad takes me by my hand over to his bed, lays down on his back and I climb up on top of him, his bigger fist wrapping around both of our dicks together,
"Maybe if I get us off at least once, we won't have to feel as if it's just all about our dicks."
I nod and try to at least look a little experienced, but he sees through it all, "First time?"
I sheepishly shrug and blush and his face exploded in a smile,
"Oh boy, this is way better than I thought it would be with you Mike!" I hear him say my first name for the first time. Then his fist starts to stroke on our dicks together. I am staring intently down at his fist and not one dick, but two! One of them mine! Needless to say, we don't last long before long hard spurts of boy juices start to shoot up from two throbbing cock heads onto his tummy, chest and near to his chin.
I am temporarily lost in just about the hardest orgasm of my life before I realize that by the time it is done, I have leaned my upper body so far forward that I am only supported on one hand. It is easy for Brad then to pull me down all the way, our tummies and chests pressing so tightly, that our combined pools of semen act like a warm gooey glue between us. Then he not so gently this times demands another long hard French kiss, his hand is still wrapped around two dicks that have not lost any hardness at all.
Now I freely moan and use my hands to slowly rub and pet his skin from his head and neck and down to his torso. His free hand does the same thing and lands on my ass and that makes me push my willing ass into his hand and he is not shy about a finger running up and down my butt crack.
Talk about electric. My fantasies have included all kinds of butt play, thank god that Brad seems experienced enough to facilitate some of that, but most of my concentration is on our mouths pressing together and our tongues swirling about. The kiss parts and I pull myself up, the goo between us looking and feeling like a sticky mess. He grins, "Shower?" and I nod enthusiastically.
Showering alone with Brad is like some kind of fantasy come true, plus. He is so gentle with me, insists that he soap me up, my hands up on the tiles and he talks, like really talks. He tells me all about his experiences with other boys up north where he came from. He even shares with me who he was with when he finally got caught and that caused all the drama. At the end of the shower, I am soaping him up too, man, that is totally hot!
When we get out of the shower, we dry off and put on looser boxers. He gives me a set of his which are like two inches too big, so much the better. Then he gets us snacks to eat and drink and then we duke it out in video games, sports, all sorts of sports like football and baseball and yes, ice hockey as well.
It seems like hours pass before his parents finally show up. Good thing for the loose boxers, I have a woody the whole time and meet his mom and dad in that condition, my boner safely hidden under the folds of Brad's bigger loser house boxers. The cool thing is that there is nothing else we have to hide from his folks.
We go back to his room and start to make out, I mean really make out on his bed again. I kind of think he wants to fuck me this first time around, but since he says nothing, maybe it's just me trying to please him in my mind. But we do lots of oral including sucking dick. Man, he can suck some dick, my dick, for a long time. I am not that good at it yet, but to hear him talk, I am like the best he has ever had.
The evening ends all too quickly with another two blasts from each dick, we each helping the other out each time and then he takes me home. I can't speak for Brad, but needless to say, I am in love or at least have a huge crush on Brad Lewis for the rest of the summer and want so much more now.
One might say from the get go that I am on the short end of a ice hockey power play, one man down and facing overwhelming odds in the form of a large and powerful defenseman whose slap shot is nearly unstoppable. I would never try to block it, he could score on me each and every time and I would love it!
© Copyright PJ Franklin August 9, 2009
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Last updated: August 9, 2009