Shane passes the puck back to me, and since I have a clear lane, I just shoot the fucker at the net.
It goes past the goalie and in!
Finally.
We’re up 1–0 now.
My linemates and I celebrate and return to the bench.
Coach gives us all pats on the backs and tells us, “Nice work, boys, nice work. Now let’s keep it up.”
Man, it feels good to score a goal, and an important one at that.
The remainder of the game, play is back to being tight. But we’re holding on to our one-goal lead. I’d like to see us get an “insurance” goal, but it’s just not happening.
Fuck.
I’m getting a little frustrated, so I’m being more physical with my play. I have to be careful, though. I don’t want to get called for a penalty. That would give the opposing team a really great chance to score.
Yeah, so calm down, buddy.
Unfortunately, there’s one dude who’s really getting on my nerves. He’s a forward, like me, and he’s been on me all night.
When we end up in a corner together, battling for the puck, the asshole elbows me in the fucking face.
My helmet slips up and off, and the whistle blows.
The jackass is getting called for a penalty, which is good for our team, but the damage has been done. I’m going to have another motherfucking black eye.
Why do I keep getting these?
Though this is my right eye, whereas the last one was on my left.
Grrr…
I’d love to beat this dude’s ass, but I don’t want to go to the penalty box too.
So I just quietly skate over to the bench.
The trainer takes a look at my eye to make sure there’s no real damage.
“You’ll be fine,” he informs me with a pat on the shoulder.
I nod. “Thanks.”
That’s about it for the action. The minutes tick down, and there’s no more scoring.
We win 1–0.
Not a blowout by any means, but hey, we’ll take the points.
A win is a win.
A few hours later, I’m back home with Madison…in my bed…pounding into her until I feel her orgasming.
That makes me follow suit, coming hard inside her.
“Fuck, babe.” I roll off her and onto my back.
