You still there? Did I freak you out?
Nope, just figuring out logistics. How soon could you be here? I have to be home by 11.
Twinkiebearbear21
I can leave now. Gives us plenty of time
I want to straddle your thick neck, watch you suck my dick and go to town on my nipples until I blow my load all over that big furry chest.
Sometimes, I shock myself with my sluttery.
If me-of-a-year-ago witnessed the me-of-now type those words, he would never have believed such filth would shoot from my brain, and out my fingers.
But it did, so I guess he’d have to.
Palming my cock as discreetly as I can, I check out Handyrub04’s pics again while we wait for a light to change. We’ve just exited O’Reilly’s, and even though a hook-up with no face shots can be risky, it really is the best excuse I’ve ever had to get the hell out of there.
Ten minutes of feigning interest in bunnies, and fake laughing at the boy’s disgusting jokes regarding them, was all it took to reinforce that I hate bars. Another fifteen and my face was buried into my phone, escaping it all in the fanfic world of a queer, kinky Spider-Man. But the potential of spending my night wrapped around a brawny man has turned that frown upside down.
Big boys are my thing, but normally they are pumped and ripped-big. This guy’s got some muscle, his arms in particular. But he’s not cut. There’s a layer or three of meat on those bones, and I am ready to chow down.
First, I need to lose my goalie coach.
My friends Quinn and Troye, the latter who’s now playing for the Boston B’s, always joked that their boy Brady was a lightweight drinker. I just didn’t realize they meant featherweight.
“I thought you Aussies were big beer fans, Brades. You finished one IPA, and you’re rambling more than the orange-ass we call President.”
Blushing profusely, Brady sinks deeper into the passenger seat. “Sorry, Cubs. I was so nervous for my first official week of practice … and for Troye’s first NHL practices … and for Quinn’s first day using the proper coffee maker machine thingy at Beanz and Bookz, I couldn’t eat all afternoon, and I eat a lot.” He rubs his belly to demonstrate, and my own stomach twists in guilt. The guy is the best, the ultimate golden retriever, and genuinely worried. In contrast, here’s me, thinking only of me, my dick and getting it wet.
Do better, Captain Cory.I think, giving myself a verbal slap.
“How is Troye doing with the big boys? Are they playing nice with the rookie?”
A dull thud accompanies Brady’s snort as his head bumps against the window. “Is he playing nice, is more the question. First day there, he lined up against Aiki Heikkinen in a scrimmage, nudged him and said, “My left ball sack dangles better than you.”
“Hart Memorial trophy winner, Aiki Heikkinen?”
“Yep,” he hiccups. “Aiki called him a cheeky shit then spent the next hour whooping his ass. They’re buds now. Even had lunch together yesterday. Troye tried to be all cool about it, but he was so excited.” Pausing, he looks at me and rubs his belly like a toddler would. “Speaking of lunch, can we stop for?—”
“NO STOPPING,” I yell, empathy eroding. “The drive-thru will be jammed this time of night, and I don’t have enough gas to keep the car running.” I really hope he’s drunk enough to miss that I’m driving a Prius. When he glances around, I think he’s onto me, but his eyes quickly go glassy and his head falls back against the headrest.
“Can’t we stop and get petrol too?”
“Petrol? You mean gas?”
“Gas, yeah.”
“No. This is a Prius.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right.” From the corner of my eye I see his blush spread as he nods again. Then he’s silent, there’s a little grunt, and yep, he’s asleep.
Occasionally emitting a cute as hell snore, he remains that way ‘til we reach his place, where I don’t push him out the door, but absolutely nudge him. “There ya go big fella. One foot in front of the other. That’s it.”
Loyally, his girlfriend Quinn is waiting for him at the door, a besotted smirk firmly fixed as she plods towards her rubbing his eyes. “Hi, Quinny, I think I drank too much beers.”
As sweet as I’m sure it will be, I don’t hang around for her response. Instead, I type Handyrub04’s address into my GPS and floor it. It’s time to make my big bear roar.
Other than my height,my glasses and well … me in general, there are only a few things I’m insecure about. Money, as in I don’t got none, is one of them. Sure, that’s going to change once I’m in the NHL, but for now, I’m broke af. So when I pull up to a row of brownstones, in a snooty part of town folks like me only venture too to get somewhere else, I’m a little … edgy.
