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I cling to Callan's arm as he leads us through the darkened arena, the only light coming from his cell phone.
“Where the hell did everyone go, man?” I ask. “They sure shut this rink down fast ...”
“Yeah, well, welcome to Winnipeg,” he laughs. “Small town without much to do, y'know. People go home and hit the sack early.”
“Sounds like you really loved it here, huh?”
He shrugs. “Can't hate on it too much. My first NHL city, you know? At least the fans were good to me ... can't say the same for all the players, but ... yeah, I like a bigger city like Chicago a lot more.”
I'm glad he knows his way around his old rink, because I'd be utterly lost if I was by myself. He drags me down the hallway, pushes a door open and flips the lights on. It's the visitor's dressing room and it feels strangely desolate now. I look around the room where all our teammates were just a short while ago.
I kick off my shoes and socks and then my sweaty athletic shorts. And my damp boxer-briefs after those. I'm kind of embarrassed to be this gross around him ... but he watches me undress with a hunger, like a starved animal tracking its prey.
“Uh,” I laugh, backing away from him, slowly retreating toward the showers. “You better stay away.”
“Why?”
“Look at me. I'm a mess.”
“Yeah? Well, I like a sweaty man.”
“Cal!”
I turn and try to hurry away from him so I can wash off. But his hand comes from behind and stops me – it wraps around my hard belly and pulls me back. He pushes me up against the cold cinderblock wall. His eyes, lust-filled and ornery, narrow at me.
“When you're all sweaty and sexy? ... You taste and smell so much more like – like you ...”
He leans in and puts his mouth to my neck. He's not kissing me – he's tasting me, and I can feel his tongue stamping at my skin and licking up my salt. He whiffs shallowly at my neck, taking in my scent. Whisps of cool air chill my tingly, goosebump-covered skin.
With a fit of wild excitement, he digs his nails into my waist. I yelp, grabbing onto his forearms to pull his nails out of my flesh. He bares his teeth against the delicate skin of my neck and scrapes me gently. I get the sense that he's a wolf – only temporarily tamed, he's showing me the damage he could do.
“Shit, Cal,” I groan with a shudder. “You're crazy.”
His hands go between my legs. He runs my length through his palms from the base to the tip – he gives me nothing but long, upward strokes. My head rolls backward, bumps the wall and I let out a big sigh. It doesn't take long before my cock firms and fills his hands.
“You're getting hard,” he says with a cockiness.
“Don't,” I gasp softly, turning my head toward the shower.
He laughs. Slowly, he lowers himself between my thighs.
“No,” I sigh. “No ...”
But I'm too weak to move. He steadies my cock by the balls, pulls the tip down to meet his mouth, and pushes it in.
Oh god, I sigh as I plunge into his cheeks. He's so fucking good at sucking cock – every suck, tug, and thrust down my length is deliberate and designed to break me.
But even though he's got me panting, and he's got my hips jerking uncontrollably into his mouth, and I can see a blinding light at the end of the tunnel when I shut my eyes – a sense of shame builds up in equal proportions and I push his forehead off my length and make a sprint for the shower.
“Hey!” he yells, disappointed. “The hell!”
I rush into the shower, pull the curtain shut behind me, and turn the water on.
Whew.
I hear his footsteps step closer until he's standing outside the shower.
“The hell was that about?” he laughs. “I thought I was about to get my damned reward.”
“You were,” I swallow, hastily and desperately running a bar of soap over my body. My cock deflates and I soap it up, too.
“So what's the problem?”
My throat swells and I don't know how to answer him. I hear the sound of fabric falling and hitting the tile floor. I glance under the shower curtain and see his suit jacket lying on the floor. Then his tie falls on top of it, followed by the rest of his clothes. The sight makes me grin.
Callan pulls the curtain back and climbs into the shower with me. Sheepishly, I wrap my arms around him, pull him in and kiss him under the running water.
“So?” he asks, pulling back. “What's up, dude?”
“I dunno,” I say. “I've kinda got, err, a mental block in place.”
“About what?”
“It's kinda crazy.”
“Just tell me already.”
“Okay,” I pause. “Uh. My ex was what you'd call a clean freak, I guess. We couldn't do anything unless I was freshly showered. She wouldn't even be in the same room as me when I got home from a game or practice until I'd jumped in the shower.”
“That's awful!” Cal says with sympathy. “But that's no 'clean freak,' that's what I'd call a germophobe.”
“Well, whatever you wanna call it, I really had it drilled into my head. I'm kinda damaged, see?”
He shrugs. “Hardly. And anyway, if that's the most fucked up thing about you ... you're pretty well off.” He takes a turn under the water and lets it run all over his hard, muscled body. “But we're gonna have to work on that. 'Cause I meant what I said. I like a sweaty man. Clean is fine and all, don't get me wrong. But nothing beats the smell of a hard working man.”
I laugh uncomfortably, kind of appalled. “Heh. Uh. Really?”
“Yeah, dude. It gets me going.”
“Huh.”
He lowers to his knees. “Well, I hope you're clean enough now ...”
“Oh,” I sigh, leaning against the wall. Hot water runs over us both and he takes my half-hard cock into his mouth. His lips and tongue massage it, fluffing it up quickly.
“God damn,” I moan.
I don't know how long we're in that shower – all I know is Callan loves what he's doing. I shut my eyes, losing myself both in the sweltering heat of the shower and his cheeks. Rolling waves of euphoria crash up and down my body, echoing through my limbs – and I 'cum' over and over. Without truly cumming – without spilling my seed.
And all I can think is, Cal's special. And, this is special. Because sex to me had always been, well, a means to an end. You stuck your dick in a hole, and you pushed in and out of it until you finally blew your wad. Which felt fine, but yeah, that was it. Sex was going from point A to point B.
But with Cal I don't feel that. I feel like – this is something else. I've heard the idea that 'sex is sacred' – and I feel like I kinda understand what that means now.
He loves what he's doing – he only wants to lavish me with pleasure. And, as a result, my pleasure comes and goes in waves, like the surf beating at the coast.
He makes me cum, over and over, each orgasm stronger than the last. Maybe I have spilled my seed; at a certain point, I can't honestly say. Because the climaxes he's giving me are stronger than any I've ever had in my life. And it's just one after another.
And as I'm riding up on another one, teetering on the edge, Cal pulls off me.
“Hold up,” he says, and he whips the curtain aside and steps out the shower, dripping wet. I hear his wet footsteps track through the dressing room.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
“Just a sec!” I hear his voice come from afar.
Then he comes back. He climbs in, clutching something behind his back.
“What's that? You've got something,” I grin, fighting him to pull his arms out and show me. “What is it? What is it?”
He grins mischievously. “Close your eyes.”
“What? No!”
“C'mon! Do it!”
“Ugh, fine.” I shut my eyes. I hear him fumbling with something. Then he grabs my dick. And I feel his thumb and forefinger slide down it. And I recognize the sensation at last: it's the sheath of a condom being pulled into place.
I open my eyes wide and blankly stare at my latex-covered cock. “Uh ... Cal? What are you thinking?”
He grins. “What do you think?”
He's got something else. A bottle. He pops the lid open and squirts lube into his fingers. He turns around, leaning up against the tile wall, and pushes his ass out towards me. He spreads his ass cheeks apart and lubes his asshole.
I swallow. “Cal, I've never ...”
“After hearing about your ex, that's not a surprise,” he laughs.
Mesmerized, I watch as Cal sticks a finger into his ass. I can't help myself. I grab his ass cheeks, one in each hand, and spread him apart. He coos happily. His little pucker is so – cute is the word that comes to mind. A pink little ring, perfect and pristine.
And he gently pushes his finger in, and then pulls it out, moaning and groaning and making all these noises that fill the shower and make me want him so goddamn bad my throat aches.
“Cal ...” I say hoarsely.
“You like to watch?” he teases. He sticks a second finger into his pretty little pucker and I gasp.
“I ... I do ...” I grunt the words out.
“Don't just watch,” he chuckles, reaching backward for my hand. “Play with me.”
I gulp loudly. I've – I've never done this before. Gently, I glance my finger tip against his ass. I feel it pucker in response.
“Oh,” he sighs. “Yeah. More.”
I circle my finger around his ring. He sighs, arching his back, his hands sliding down the tile wall.
“Fuck yeah, Tyler. More.”
I push. Gently. Slowly.
“Oh my god,” I groan as I slide my finger into his ass. “It's so fucking tight, dude.”
“Yeah,” he agrees.
I push in and out, stunned at the way his tightness clenches all around my finger. My cock swells and aches, swinging like a divining rod between his thighs.
“Go ahead,” he says softly. “Give it to me.”
“Oh, man ...”
I put my tip at his entrance. He pushes his palms against the wall and leans back on me. My tip slides past his tight ring and we both yelp.
“Fuck!”
“Oh!”
I work myself in slowly, carefully. Every pass opens him deeper – and he can take more of me in.
“Fuck, you're big!” he cries out, pounding his fist into the wall.
He pushes his ass against me, willing himself to take all of me – until, at last, my inches have disappeared inside him.
“Yes!” he hisses. “Fuck me, man!”
I grab his cheeks and push against him as I pull out. And then I pull him toward me as I sink my weight into him.
“Fuck yeah!” he groans. “Harder!”
The two of us fill that small shower space. We fill it with our large, muscled bodies – coming together and pulling apart, only to come crashing back together again. We fill it with our grunts and groans, our delighted sighs and weakened moans.
I'm close. Cal knows. He can feel it. I've stopped pushing against him – and I've stopped pulling out of him. Instead, I stand still, buried in his sanctity.
“Don't stop,” he says, “give it to me!”
But he doesn't wait for me to start again. He pumps his ass on my cock, determined to make me cum. And the pressure builds higher, my cock swelling fatter, each pump of his ring closing tighter all around my growing girth.
“I'm cumming,” I say, and then with more urgency, “I'm cumming!”
I grab onto his hard, chiseled waist. My cock grows bigger, harder – until at last, the pressure explodes out of me and drains from my balls.
“Hell yeah!” he cries, milking me with his tightness.
“Augh!” I yell, spasming in the shower.
I slide out of him. He turns around and we come together. We're both weak and have to hold each other up. With the warm shower water running down our hard bodies, we seal our bond with a kiss.