Aunt Cathy Pt. 43

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{Disclaimer: All characters in this piece are eighteen or over}

We had no locker room to change in and my room was sure as hell not big enough (for reasons that elude me now, we didn’t think of dad’s garage) so the kitchen was marked a no-female zone, and that is where we changed. Was a voyeuristic invite if there ever was one.

Our little gang of women, minus Deidra and Mitsy, had congealed on the front porch, but not before opening the side pane curtains of the front door just enough to peek. Popoff noticed the prying eyes and gave me a wink with a very subtle nod to the door. When I looked over faces hurriedly moved out of sight. Pop wasn’t about to let the opportunity go by and announced, jock strapped ass to the door, “God damn dick! Where’s my big cup! I need a big cup!”

It got everyone in stitches. Me especially because I knew damned well Misty was now getting grilled out there about just how big that cup needed to be. With everyone in on all the secrets, questions didn’t have boundaries anymore.

“They all are grown up now.” Pop laughed, everyone else looked at me like I was gonzo. Using the kitchen for a change room meant we had to traverse a half perimeter of the house. I mention that because of the skate guards we all had on, it looked like a bunch of ponies clopping up and down on new shoes. I found that funny but kept it to myself. Really didn’t feel like bringing up the pony-boy thing.

Getting on the ice this time held no unsureness. My skate notched the gate stud again and we flowed onto the ice. Determined, and sure.

I could brag. Could gloat. But it felt so good that to bolster it with any kind of ego would be belittling. Practice went so well even coach was left a little frustrated (in a good way) at the lack of horn-blowing he had to do. We met every stride, accomplished every goal, and did it all without getting winded. He actually gave us a mini-ovation and set us free.

“Sticks in the center.”

That meant shinny time, and we loved that. Gave us a chance to have friendly competition against each other. Random sticks were pulled out of the pile, one went left, one right, and that decided opposing forces. Periods remained at twenty minutes but truthfully with all the chiding and laughing it was more like ten minutes of actual play.

We had an audience all during this. Our girls were watching from the front porch which stood about six feet higher than the rink fence. I’d been watching them more than a little curious as cardboard box after box made it was onto the porch and was cut into strips. I know they used up at least two rolls of duct tape too. When Cathy cat called Popoff “This big enough!?!?” I found out what they’d been constructing.

Everybody lost it (except Pop) when an easily six-foot athletic cup drifted through the air and landed mid-ice. He muttered a quiet son of a bitch but didn’t let them get the last shot, or let the peaking go untouched.

“Almost. How did you know? Been peaking?”

I heard Mary go ‘busted’ and me and Pop laughed just before we got a face-off whistle. Everything was fun until Popoff went to fake a slap shot, something coach forbade during shinny, and caught a chunk of raised ice. The trip b-lined a high-velocity slap-shot straight towards Bonnie’s head. The whole teamed bellowed ‘look out’ Bonnie didn’t even glance, just snatched it out of the air bare-handed.

“This!” She waved the rubber around. “Is supposed to go in there!” A finger that still sported a long red fingernail pointed to a net and she tossed it. All of us were blown away she’d snagged a bullet bare-handed from the air, some of us more than others.

Coach had a lot of rules that to some may of seemed overkill, but they were all designed to make the team better. One such rule was no matter if it was practice or game, you kept your eye on the disk and knew where it was at all times. Lance (backup goalie to Clayton) was too enamored with red’s grab to remember that, but he heavily recalled it when the puck clacked behind him.

“FUCK!”

Got to give him due credit though, he dove and sprawled, even sending his stick along the ice trying to stop that puck from going in. But failed. Coaches air horn went off loud and clear and the rest of us huddled into center ice grinning like fools. Was little tea cup time.

The penalty was to pirouette, bow, and look as girlish as possible while singing ‘I’m a little tea cup’. Doesn’t sound like much, but when you factor in all your teammates, and a porch full of milf’s? Had to feel for the guy. He ended up on one knee with a huge grin on his face, bowed, then gave everyone a good solid fuck off finger.

Practice had gone well but that was only because we were focused and the milfs had behaved themselves. After red’s puck nab, they didn’t. An inordinate amount of rail leaning (read cleavage) and back arches had us bumbling around like the Three Stooges at times. Coach called it when Pop and Sam (first line left wing) met in a center ice train wreck of a collision while glancing at the titty tease on the Diyarbakır Escort porch.

He let everyone but our line off the hook. “Stay geared but ditch the skates, change your socks, and towel off.” I looked at Pop, sob, and Clayton. “Home ice next.” Pop gave me a very solid stern look, it was time to learn this secret play. While Pop and Lance may have gotten a good ribbing, it was all forgotten when our first-line center made a classic snafu while leaving the ice. He dead straight looked Bonnie in the eye and said, “You got a nice snatch.”

He didn’t realize what he’d said till Bonnie, sitting with her long-heeled legs crossed and back slightly arched (this pose must have been a go-to milf thing) licked her lips to answer him. “Well thank you. You been peeking through my bedroom window sweets?” It took a full thirty seconds for him to understand what she’d meant, and when he did? Fire engine red.

“Shit! NO, NO… that is not what I meant! I was talking about the grab… you know? The puck! Fuck me.” It was hilarious watching him squirm and Bonnie let him prattle on for a while before unhooking him.

“It’s okay.” Her face was all kind of beaming. “I didn’t take any offense, and honestly? A compliment like that from a handsome young man does an old woman good.” This time he knew exactly what he was saying.

“If you’re what’s waiting for me when I grow up, I can’t wait to get there.” Probably don’t have to tell you another young man got a snap chat number, what you more than likely would want to know, I bet, is that red decided this one wasn’t going to have to wait for old age. It seems a little bird, A.K.A her eves dropping on a phone call from Trevor’s parent’s that they’d be late to pick him up, set her wheels in motion. The hormones were obviously spinning circles way before his verbal miscue.

Bonnie borrowed our old ford step-side, mom didn’t ask why and had taken an alternate route to the train station. She waited till the coast was clear and pulled up blatantly asking if he’d like to see her real snatch. Trevor was no fool or virgin and readily accepted. How do I know all this? Mom had been using the old truck earlier in the day and had left the two-way radio on by accident. We often left it on talk to relay what was happening in the field back home, was a lot easier to just lean in the window and yell than open the door, cue the mic, etc, etc.

I guess when the usual banter from the radio started turning to some very heavy grunts, groans, sighs, and squeals, ears picked up. From what I gather the two them damned the winter and went full force in the back of the truck bed. Bonnie never lived that down, and mom hung the one long red fingernail she’d lost during the tryst for all to see from the rearview mirror.

“Just because.”

None of this was known to me or my linemates on the way to our home rink. If we had garnered this info I doubt we would have been cracking jokes at his expense about the snatch goof-up. Practice had been sure and steady, getting into the locker room put all of us out of sorts, even coach. Some ass hat had painted over all our history. Remarks and reminders, some very funny jabs, it all had been annihilated. And to make it even worse? They used another team’s colors.

“Well ain’t this fucking nice.” Popoff launched his stick across the room. The rest of us had pretty much the same reaction and heavily sat down on the benches. Coach started taking pictures of the redone room without saying a word. When his phone turned from camera to call we all learned exactly how much he was part of this team.

“I don’t give a flying fuck who did it! I wanna know how the shit happened! Seem’s to me even a damn idiot could have discerned from the paperwork that no team was allowed to change anything in the locker rooms in a lent rink. What? YOUR GOD DMAN STRAIGHT I WANT TO FILE A GRIEVANCE!”

I thought for sure that phone was going to get dashed on the floor, but it didn’t. He just looked around the room and grunted dumbasses. “Get geared up. The bone heads used latex paint over oil, this shit will peel off in sheets.” He headed off to the ice.

Another bummer waited for me as we got to the gate. The somebody’s had replaced the jam with all my years of skate digs. Coach put a hand on my shoulder, “Sorry razz, but I don’t think we’ll get that back.” It sucked, and hurt a little, but we were here to learn a play nobody had ever seen, much less thought of before, not reminisce. I stuck my skate in hard removing a sizable chunk of fresh wood. “Reset and restart.” Got a good thump on the back as I headed onto the ice.

Popoff was standing behind a row of eight pucks widely spread apart. Coach skated up behind me and just said, “Show’em.” Pop slammed his stick blade onto one of the rubbers and it shot back and up into the air. I lost it against the darkness of the roof but heard it clack on the ice a good distance IN FRONT of Pop.

“That’s impossible! Maybe a pool ball but there is nothing but air for that puck to latch onto!” Everyone Diyarbakır Escort Bayan else agreed. “Physics may not be a strong suit with us all… but come on!” Pop didn’t say a word, just did it seven more times in a row.

All that had happened since I’d fallen in love with Cathy didn’t just fade away at the sight, but this definitely took front and center for right now. Pop’s ‘everyone moves forward’ comment suddenly made a ton of sense. The other team would see the puck shoot back and turn the jets onto our net, and we’d be doing the same toward theirs. We’d both blast by each other. But that puck would land ahead of us… onside.

Sob had an ear-to-ear grin that extended his face. “Well, my name and then some. Let’s learn this dog.” We started on the play that day and worked it for a few hours. There was a very good reason the whole line was there. If something went wrong Calton and our two defensemen would be in a five-on-three situation. During a break, I skated down to ask him what he thought.

“Two things. Pop is some kind of air bender and it’s a bizarre play, to say the least. But man will it ever catch them way off guard.” Had to chuckle at that, it wasn’t what I meant though.

“I kinda meant how you feel about being left high and dry?” He did something then that would prove to be a literal lifesaver; his neck guard came off. “What the hell is that? No way that’s league spec.”

“The hell it ain’t. Dimensionally correct, weight specific, in fact, it’s way under the max, there is nothing about this that is illegal.” He grinned and tossed it to me. A down pillow weighed more.

Cayton’s dad was an ex-sky cowboy.

He’d walked girders so high jumbo jets would have looked like ants and had always wanted a better solution to the heavy iron and steel that made up the skyscrapers. So much so that he’d garnered a name for himself with the people of this, and a few other counties, as the alchemist

“Try bending it.” With the weight, I figured it would bend like a tin pie plate, but it didn’t budge.

“Your dad found it didn’t he.” Clayton had the look of a very proud son on his face.

“Twice as strong as titanium and four times lighter. He’s already got aircraft and space dudes banging on the door. The patent hasn’t even been acknowledged.” I fiddled with the guard for a bit before handing it back.

“Well, tell your dad I will gladly buy one of these.” I gave him a stick blade to the shin pad. “One question. You going to still talk to us when your stinking rich?” He gave a good laugh.

“I won’t be stinking rich. Dad will. And I got another in my bag, it’s yours, think of it like an endorsement.” The offer was accepted and before I skated away I gave Clayton a message for his old man.

“Tell pops that I’m laughing with you and him at the nay-sayers.”

“Will do bro. Thanks.”

The weeks that followed held no shortage of things to do. Practice on-farm ice then the arena was the main focus. Me, Pop, and sob took on the dismantling and walling off of the one bathroom, then retrofitting a closet to a new one without a moan. There was a whole new family it would be servicing. Shinny was kept in the mix but only twice a week (I think coach secretly liked the lady’s shows almost as much as he did watching us buffoons) of course it didn’t all go by without an erotic hitch.

It came after the last practice on farm ice. The whole gang of our ladies; Mom, Cathy, Mary, Bonnie, Mitsy, and Misty, plus Deidra, all showed up on the back porch with a loud ref whistle.

“WE MADE SHIRTS!” Oh had they made shirts.

Sleeveless low cut tee’s that tattered just barely below under boob with our crest emblazoned across the front. They all stood chest out in a line, it was glorious, to say the least. One of our guys asked Pop for his cardboard cup because he was pretty sure he’d shattered his. Coach just said, “Ladies, as fine as that looks, you cannot wear those to the game.”

Was Mitsy (who else) who spun over the railing planting herself in a sexy sit. “And why not?” Coach had a little gleam in his eye over her move.

“Well. We will be in an enclosed rink, but, one errant breeze and it would be quite the eyeful for the youngsters.”

“Errant breeze huh?” Mitsy took her hands off the railing and flung her arms above, and to each side of her. I wasn’t the only one that hushed a damn as the torpedoes came to a full point. The shirt rose up, as well as our expectations, only not a thing became even slightly exposed. We’d been played. She pinched at her waist and pulled her ‘skin’ out four inches. The shirts were body suits. Everything skin was just flesh-colored stretch material.

We all watched to see what coach’s reaction would be, he handled it like he always does; efficiently… just with a bit of a subtle grin this time. “Okay, be that as it may. I know you ladies are not weak in any sense of the word.” He looked at Bonnie. “Especially you.” She blushed a smile. “But still, I really don’t think you seven would be a match for an Escort Diyarbakır arena full of jealous wives and girlfriends.” It had the effect he wanted of a compliment mixed with a dash of realism.

Despite the mug-shot picture, I had to side with coach all the way. We would not be anywhere near our home turf, and a lot closer to the Wolves.

Mom had disappeared back into the house and her voice rose over the concern when she returned. “Oh relax coachie.” We had a smirk over the ‘coachie’ and it got swiftly cut down by a look from him. “These were a joke, this is the real shirt.” It was still a body suit, still cut almost too low, and still very, very skin-tight. This one however was sleeved like a baseball tee. Our team colors made up the body and arms but our crest had been given a 3d sort of effect that seemed to make it float. It looked freaking awesome and modern N.H.L. classy.

Somebody banged a stick on the ice, didn’t take any time before we were all clacking blades and whooping up a storm. The game was in two days and coach had a surprise for us and the ladies. We were told to get out of gear and towel off (towel off b.t.w had become an art form of a shower in a sink)and the women were asked to congregate up in the kitchen… after us. When we were all together coach led us out to the barn, he’d outdone himself.

The entire lower half of the building had been cleaned and buffet tables covered in red checkerboard tablecloths lined the middle. Off to one side heating lamps kept a stack of every kind of pizza you could imagine warm, right next to it was a small wall of beer kegs. Bonnie and Mitsy lit up and practically danced their way to a table while coach gave a nod and the barn filled with good rock music and lights. Mom was just as flabbergasted as the rest of us.

“How and when!?” Coach crooked his arm and led her to a table.

“Last night and today. I figured you women would be up to something, and if not, wouldn’t miss a chance to watch the last practice. What can I get you?” Mom had on her customary heels and just over-the-knee skirt, she leaned back, then forward a little, crossed her legs, and rested her crossed wrists on her legs. Totally sexy pose. His eyes glimmered a quick flick up and down her. She got a look I knew all too well, a look that said she was about to test you.

She ordered the one kind of pizza everyone but my family hated. Ham and pineapple, then asked for a glass of beer in a very uncommon type of glass; a schooner. “Got ya, be right back.” Mom sat back more than a little taken aback and got plain old wide eye when he returned with everything she’d asked for.

“Okay, sir. Have been watching me since I was of drinking age? Just how did you have all this figured out?” He gave a good loud laugh and asked if he could sit, something mom appreciated.

“No, I haven’t been spying. Razz is the only guy on the team that orders those toppings, had to be a family thing. Far as the schooner goes, if ice ever becomes outlawed, these boys and their livers will start playing rugby. And that again is something of an all-family trait.” Mom leaned back with a crinkled nose laughing, and that’s when sob tapped my shoulder.

“That’s going to suck man.”

“Huh? What is.”

He took a slug of his beer, chomp of pie, and through a stuffed mouth said, “Having coach as a dad.” Cathy broke up, Mary across from sob also.

“That is not fucking funny!” Truthfully though I hadn’t seen mom look so happy and unburdened as she did right now. My wife knew what I was thinking, and not being able to give me a hug or kiss, squeezed my knee under the table. That probably would have gotten a lot deeper into me if Misty hadn’t suddenly gleefully, and exuberantly, pulled mom off her seat while Bonnie did the same with Cathy. Me and the guys were about to get treated to some very sexy, moving, eye candy.

The four of them lined up just in front of the D/J booth and Misty cued him to start playing Asereje by Las Ketchup. If you don’t know what I’m talking about look up the video and just imagine the four of them moving like that, all giggly and smiling. It ended with us boisterously applauding while they bowed and blew kisses. The whole night was like that, nobody got out of hand, and we all just had fun. It was a much-needed release from the pressure and stress.

Before it ended we all helped clean up (something the people that had been doling out pizza and beer appreciated) and coach made another speech, this one a little different than the one at Robert’s.

“A little out of character would you say, gentlemen?” Nobody had said it but we all had thought about it. Coach usually would of all but locked us up till game time, so yeah. “Fair enough, now listen up. You all worked your butts into the ice every game this season. There is no doubt in my mind that had this series played out the seven games it was supposed to, you would have taken it in five.”

He didn’t delude us by saying four, there was still one game we could lose. “But this isn’t a seven-game series, and as such you deserve to blow off steam, then focus.” He gave me a wink. “Reset and restart so to speak. So two toasts, one to the fine good women, those present as well as absent.” Was no argument there, that was toasted loudly and brought about some very red blushing faces. “And us. The champions!”

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