The final buzzer sounded and the arena exploded. I shoved my way through the tunnel, still dripping sweat from the ice, my cock already half-hard from the adrenaline and the way she’d been eye-fucking me from the glass all night. She wasn’t some random puck bunny. She was the one I’d texted after the last road trip: “Be in the players’ lot after the game. No panties.”
She was waiting by my truck, short skirt, nipples poking through a tight jersey with my number on it. I didn’t say a word. I just grabbed her wrist, yanked the door open, and shoved her into the back seat. The second the door slammed, I had my hand up her skirt.
“Already soaked,” I growled, two fingers sliding straight into her cunt. “You been thinking about this dick the whole game?”
She moaned and spread her legs wider. “Yes, Captain.
Fuck, I watched you fight and got so wet I almost touched myself in the stands.”
I ripped my jockstrap down, freeing my cock. It was thick, veined, still flushed from the game. I didn’t bother with foreplay. I flipped her onto her stomach, yanked her hips up, and slammed inside her in one rough thrust. She cried out, cunt clenching around me like a fist.
“Take it,” I snarled, pounding into her. The truck rocked with every brutal stroke. My balls slapped her clit and she pushed back, greedy for every inch. “This is what you came for, right? NHL dick after a win.”
I reached around and rubbed her swollen clit hard and fast. She came in under a minute, cunt pulsing, juices running down my shaft. I didn’t slow down. I fucked her through it, then pulled out and flipped her again so I could watch her face while I fed her my cock.
“Suck it clean,” I ordered. She opened wide and took me to the back of her throat, tasting her own cum on me. I held her head and fucked her mouth until spit ran down her chin and onto her jersey.
When I was close I pulled out, dragged her out of the truck, and bent her over the hood. The metal was cold against her tits. I kicked her legs apart and drove back in, deeper this time, hitting her cervix with every thrust.
“Tell me whose cunt this is,” I grunted.
“Yours,” she gasped. “Captain’s slut. Use me.”
I reached under her, pinched both nipples hard, and fucked her until her legs shook. When I felt my balls tighten I pulled out, spun her around, and painted her face and open mouth with thick ropes of cum. She licked her lips and swallowed what she could, eyes glassy.
I wasn’t done. I shoved her back into the truck, climbed in after her, and made her ride me reverse so I could watch my cock disappear into her stretched hole. She bounced like a whore, ass rippling, moaning my name. I slapped her ass red and told her she was going to come again or I wouldn’t let her leave. She came twice more before I flooded her pussy with a second load, cum leaking out around my shaft.
We sat there panting, the smell of sex thick in the air. I pulled out slow, watching my load drip from her. Then I handed her a towel from my bag.
“Same time next home game,” I said. “Wear the jersey. Nothing else underneath.”
She smiled, cum still on her lips, and nodded. “Yes, Captain.”
I drove home with her scent all over me, already planning how I’d bend her over the boards in the empty practice rink next week. NHL season was long, but the post-game pussy was always worth the wait.
