ASHER POVI’m on the ice alone, which isn't unusual since it’s eleven PM. The rink at this hour is mine.Just me, the cold air biting into me and the quiet company of the arena that’s a polar opposite of the inside of my skull. This is the only place that makes sense to me since I can’t sleep. My brain won't stop looping the image of a certain thick-muscled, chiseled-jawed guy on his knees, taking my full length into his mouth. I skate my puck into the post but it miss,the fifth time tonight. Not because I can't play but because each time my stick scratch through the ice, my brain supplies the sound of Remington gagging on my cock. His nails scratching on my thighs and the wet patch on his pants only I sawI’ve watched the clip over six times. Each time gets me as hard as the last, which is a big fucking problem.I plant my skate deep against the ice, cold air burning my lungs as I weave through the cones, my stick snapping sharply against the puck.I cut hard left, drop my shoulders
Last Updated : 2026-03-25 Read more