She Distracted him while he Played Hockeye [MF][Exhibitionism][Teasing][Seduction][Outdoor Sex][Get over here and fuck me]

Author’s Notes:

1. I’m hoping you’ll appreciate the seduction/teasing/exhibitionist moments in the beginning and middle. This story does have a “big finish” if you wait for it. Please rate the story and provide feedback, positive or negative, in the comments so I can improve my writing.
2. The hockey game that is the setting for this fantasy is at an outdoor Ball Hockey “rink”, played in the early Fall. Ball Hockey is not played on ice, so we’re free to play outdoors in moderate or cold weather. This particular rink/court has a rubber-coated chain link fence along the top of the boards, so spectators can stand right up next to where the action is. (I tried to keep the sports talk to the bare minimum necessary to keep the story moving.)

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After a year (one WHOLE year) of not playing hockey due to the global pandemic, I’m finally going to get back out on the rink. It’s almost all I’ve been able to think about since getting vaccinated. When I say almost I mean except for Stacy.

Stacy my muse. How can I best describe her?

For one thing, she is gorgeous. She stands 5′ 6″ barefoot. She has all of her curves in all of the right places, and she knows how to dress to accentuate, if not flaunt, her figure. If pressed, I’d say her most attractive feature is her mind though; Smart, quick, and witty. Able to talk about any one of many interesting topics….

OK, I lied. Stacy is a great conversationalist; fun to be around; and cuttingly witty. However, I must admit that her most striking feature is her eyes. Normally a grayish blue, they turn green when she’s excited about something. That’s how you can tell when she’s genuinely invested in a conversation. I’ve noticed that mischievous green when our friendly flirtations sometimes stray into more dangerous territory.

Once, her eyes were shining like emeralds as she described how she’ll sometimes indulge her exhibitionist side. Teasing a man (or the occasional interested woman) with glimpses of her lacy undergarments, or a brief view down her blouse at her spectacular breasts. She described how her nipples harden with excitement at the mere thought of an “accidental” exposure. Of course, this makes the eventual exposure even more thrilling for the privileged voyeur…

Where was I? Oh, yes, my upcoming return to playing recreational ball hockey with a group of men desperately holding onto our receding athleticism against the encroachment of middle-age. First game back, after a year without playing. Stacy lives out of state, wouldn’t be able to attend (nor would I expect her to spend an hour watching amateur athletes play an unconventional sport). However, she did promise me a special surprise if I played well.

Opening day of the new season is perfect. It’s early in the Fall, so the temperature is between 65-70F as the sun recedes in the sky.

In between rounds of warmup shots (yeah, I’m a goalie), I look around the familiar surroundings. The rink is situated in a relatively secluded lot well back from the main road. The player benches are off to my right. To my left there is one small set of stands with five rows of bench seating rising off the ground. The crowd is sparse as most people not playing are enjoying the dinner hour elsewhere on this beautiful fall weekend evening.

Toward the end of warmups, I glance over at the stands and I see someone new has arrived. She’s looking away from the court, so I can’t see her face. Still, I can’t help but notice she has a vaguely familiar figure. Even her hair is just like Stacy’s. It has the same amount of curl, and the traces of auburn are highlighted by the setting sun. I think “if only” before turning my mind back to the start of the game.

I get comfortable in my crease; tap both goal posts to set my position, and focus. About a minute or so into the game, the opposing team has their first scoring opportunity. Their fastest player chases the ball into our zone, and he makes a nice pass to a trailing teammate. Fortunately, I read the pass correctly, and get myself in position to intercept the ensuing shot. I cover the ball, “freezing” it, and get ready for the next face off, to the left of my net.

As I turn to get set, I steal a quick look at the stands.

She’s here! Stacy is here, and she looks stunning!

She’s wearing a lovely summer dress. The dress is made of light material, and I can just make out the shape of her legs through the gauzy fabric as the sun sets behind her. She’s wearing a light bolero sweater, which protects her sides and arms from the light breeze but does nothing to hide the view I have of the front of her dress. It’s snug around the bust, with a respectable amount of cleavage showing. I suspect that if she leans forward the cleavage may no longer be respectable. Stacy has her feet resting on the bench in front of her. She appears to be wearing wedge heels, quite high ones at that.

I look up at her face. Her cheeks are covered with an adorable smattering of freckles. She’s smiling with both her mouth and her eyes. Oh, those eyes of hers. Stunning is the right word to describe her because I am, indeed, stunned. So stunned, in fact, that I miss the referee dropping the ball to restart play. It’s only by sheer dumb luck that I’m able to recover in time to clumsily block what should have been an easy save. My team recovers the ball and the play heads back to the other end of the court.

I steal a quick glance in her direction to make sure I wasn’t imagining things, then do my best to retain my focus before the play can come back my way. Toward the end of the first period, there’s a short break in play as the ball goes sailing over the fencing, and a new ball must be tossed in. I take the opportunity to raise my helmet as I look to make sure Stacy knows I’ve noticed her. Once again I’m struck. When I looked before she was sitting demurely with her hands on her knees, quite prim and proper. By now, she’s relaxed a little. Her right foot has moved off the lower bench to settle on the step close to her body, Her left foot remained on the bench. This wouldn’t be an issue if her dress had not also somehow been raised up to just above her knees. She notices me looking, then makes eye contact while subtly raising the hem of her dress a little higher and simultaneously opening her knees just a little further. A wink lets me know she knows exactly what she’s doing.

Somehow, I tear my eyes away and focus on the game sufficiently to make it to the end of the first period without incident. I collect my water bottle and towel from the top of the net and start to walk over toward the stands for a quick hello, but I’m surprised to see she is no longer there. I turn back to the court, and begin the trek to the other end, as the teams switch sides between periods.

As I reach mid-court, I notice Stacy walking along the fence line a little ahead of me. By the time I reach the net, she’s taken up a position behind the fence directly behind the net. She motions that I should come closer, then lowers her hands to hold the inside edges of her bolero sweater. As I approach, she moves her hands to the sides, while still holding the sweater.

With the top button fastened, the movement of her hands pulls the sweater away from her chest. It’s then I realize that on her walk to this end of the court, she took the opportunity to tug down the neck of her dress. Rather than showing me the top of her dress, she is now flashing her bare breasts at me. Her pink areolae topped by impossibly hard nipples.

Just as quickly as they appeared, they are hidden away as she brings her hands back down.

The look on my face must have been priceless because she broke into a knowing grin before asking me if I was enjoying my surprise. “Of course,” I managed to stammer before asking, “How did you get here? How did you find this place?”

“After weeks of online chatting, and wishing we could meet face to face, is that all you have to say?” she asks.

“No, I, I’m thrilled! I just don’t deal with surprises well when I’m playing.”

“If I’m distracting you, I suppose I could call a taxi to pick me up.” she says with a slight grin on her face already knowing my response.

“Don’t you dare!” I say pleadingly. “I’ll be able to thank you properly once the game is done. Please, don’t go anywhere!”

“I’m only teasing you,” Stacy says. Then after a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure no one can see what she’s doing, she uses her left hand to raise one side of the sweater while reaching over with her right hand to take her nipple between her thumb and forefinger. “Can’t you tell…oh!…that I’m only teasing?”

It’s then that I hear the whistle blow alerting us to the start of the second period.

I reluctantly (which might be the mother of all understatements) turn away from the entrancing sight of Stacy rolling and pinching her nipple just for me to see. I want nothing more than to run off the court, throw her over my shoulder, and run to the nearest secluded area. However, duty to one’s team must come first in these situations. It’s not like they could just find another goalie on a moment’s notice.

Stacy pulls her sweater closed but doesn’t pull up her dress to cover her breasts which remain bare beneath the sweater flaps. She blows me a kiss and winks. “I’ll stay nearby, just in case you need inspiration,” she says in her slow seductive way that I know too well from multiple online chats. Stacy remains behind my net for the start of the period. During breaks in play, she offers words of encouragement. Of course, she can’t resist sprinkling in a few naughty thoughts, just to keep me on edge.

“Nice save babe!” when there are people nearby.

“Believe it or not, I was wearing a bra when I left the house.” She whispers when my team is setting up for a face-off outside our defensive zone. “It was only after I got on the train that I decided removing it would be more fun!” (There goes that glint of green in her eyes again.)

“Yay green team!” after we score.

“Mmmmmm.” she moaned “Oh! Are you sure you do not want to turn around right now?” “I could use another hand back here…. gasp!” she announced breathily during a break in play at the far end of the court.

“Too bad honey. You’ll get the next one.” after I let one in.

“The panties I’m wearing are so sheer, it’s like I’m not wearing anything at all under this dress,” Stacy purred as the period came to an end.

I immediately turn around, but she’s already walking back to the stands at the other end of the court. Swaying her hips in a way that says, “Yeah, I know you’re watching. You’ll just have to wait a bit longer.”

Stacy returns to her seat in the stands for the third period as I finish my walk down the court. My team is winning the game 3 – 1, so I’m feeling pretty good about my play tonight. Somehow my desire to show off my athletic prowess for Stacy helped me overcome the thrill of seeing her in the flesh for the first time. Fortunately, my teammates know better than to talk to me when I’m playing well. If I’m forced to explain who the goddess paying attention to me is, my focus will crack for sure. I’m riding right on the edge as it is when I settle into the net for the third, and final period.

My team scores a quick goal only a minute into the period. Up 4-1 I’m thinking it’s safe to steal a glance in the direction of the stands. Stacy must have had the same thought because she apparently decided now was the time to up the stakes in our private game.

When I look over, I notice Stacy has moved to the end of the row. All that separates us is about 20 feet and a chain link fence. For all intents and purposes, the few other spectators are behind her. Our eyes connect, then she slowly shifts her gaze downward. As I follow her gaze down, I see her hands have raised the hem of her gauzy dress to above her knees. She slowly spreads her legs apart, drawing her hands up along her thighs bringing the skirt with them. Inch by tantalizing inch, her creamy thighs are exposed to me.

An involuntary moan emanates from my chest.

At the sound of my moan the woman sitting to the other side of Stacy turns her head to look at me. Seeing me staring in her direction she glances to her right to see what has me so enraptured. Taking the scene in stride, the woman leans over, whispering something into Stacy’s ear at the same time placing her hand atop Stacy’s as it continues its indulgent journey along her thigh toward the treasure atop it. Stacy startles briefly at the unexpected touch, but as the whispering continues, she breaks into a shy smile tilting her chin down in slight embarrassment as a blush rises from her chest to her face.

I can see now what Stacy meant when she described her panties earlier. They are so sheer that even in the dim light of the evening I can almost make out her most recent temporary tattoo. It’s a different color than the one she showed off last week. I wonder what kind of flower…

“HEY KINSELLA!” I hear a shout. “We have a game going on over here. If it’s not too much trouble for you to pay attention we might actually win this thing!”

Chagrined, I again tear my face away from the visual feast before my eyes. I resolve to make it through the rest of the game without glancing over even as I notice Stacy giggling with her new friend.

I’m fortunate that the pace of the game picks up for me considerably. Now down three goals, the other team throws themselves at our zone, playing with the energy of the desperate. We only need to survive this onslaught for the next few minutes to crush their spirit and take back control of the game. I’m playing like a man possessed. Sliding across the crease effortlessly to stymie attempt after attempt to penetrate our goal. But I must admit, the pace of play is wearing on me. Combined with the unexpected mental strain of keeping thoughts of Stacy and her thrilling thighs at bay, I feel like I’m about to crack as the game clock ticks down to the final two minutes.

In our league, the clock runs, even during stoppages in play, until there are two minutes left in a period. At this point, the clock stops with every whistle. The upshot is that while the first 13 minutes can fly by in well, about 13 minutes; the last two minutes can take what seems an eternity when you’re dying for the game to just end and let you seal your victory. Right now, my definition of victory is making it off the court before I spontaneously combust from the sexual tension building within me every second.

Somehow, someway, I hold it together until the final whistle. We shake hands, first with our teammates, then with the other team, and we file off the court. Stacy is waiting for me, her dress now back in a “respectable” condition, but still looking sexy as hell. I permit her a small hug on my bulky and sweaty frame before leading her over to my chair and equipment bag.

Most players on a team can step off the floor, toss their gloves and helmet into a bag; grab a beer, and be ready to socialize. Goalies, on the other hand, not only have to strip off layers of protective gear, we also need to towel off all the sweat that accumulates beneath the bulky equipment. I’m not Adonis, but I stay pretty trim for 52. I know in a certain light, the vision of me in only my compression shorts with a towel around my neck might have an effect on those who appreciate a mature man in decent shape. Over the years I’ve lost any modesty as the need to cool down usually takes precedence over propriety. Today is no different. As Stacy watches me remove my chest protector, leg pads, knee pads, and finally my bulky goalie pants I make it a point to try to bend or stretch in a way that (hopefully) shows me off to my best advantage. Stacy doesn’t step away or turn away, so I assume she’s enjoying the unconventional show.

Once we’ve shared a post-game beer with the lads, and I’ve pulled on a dry t-shirt and pair of shorts, it’s time to depart. At this moment, mother nature decides to play her own trick. Just as I’ve loaded the last of my gear into the hatchback of my practical Prius, the sky opens, and a downpour begins. Everyone sprints for their cars, and the parking lot empties in what seems like no time at all.

Stacy and I are in the front seat of my car, both soaked to the skin and realizing that for the first time all night, we are alone. The kiss that ensues is not graceful or comfortable. What it can best be described as is primal. Leaning across the center console, our upper torsos are just able to touch as we wrap our arms about each other. Our lips are everywhere, cheeks, lips, necks, earlobes. Desperately trying to touch some uncovered portion of skin. At this point, we both only need one thing…more.

“To hell with this” I say as I heave open the driver’s side door and explode from the car into the now empty parking lot. Stacy barely has time to unlatch her door before I’m yanking it open and lifting her out of the car. The last of the late summer rain storms is blowing around us as I back her against the side of the car, my hands behind her head, pulling her into the first true deep kiss we’ve been able to share. It does not disappoint. Soon Stacy has pulled my t-shirt over my head, and I’ve managed to free her of the bolero sweater. I pull down the front of her dress and give her lovely breasts the attention they’ve been craving all evening. With the rain falling and the animal lust driving me, I’m not overly gentle, although I’m careful not to leave any bruises. I take each pebble-sized nipple between my fingers, pinching and twisting slightly the way she’s told me she likes it. Her gasps soon turn to moans of pleasure.

Just as she’s sure she can’t take it any longer, I spin her around placing her hands on the roof of the car pressing her bare breasts against the windows. I grasp the hem of her skirt and lift it up over her ass. I’m now gazing at Stacy’s heart shaped ass covered only by a pair of wispy panties that are soaked, and not just from the rain I expect. I put my weight on her back, pressing her nipples against the cool, wet, car window. She turns her head slightly and says to me in a breathy voice, “Take what you want.” I need no further invitation. I reach down grabbing the wisp of fabric between her legs, and with a single pull tear them off, leaving her fully exposed to me.

I step back, taking a moment to admire the view before me. Stacy, with her top pulled down, bent forward against the side of the car. Her arms stretched up and across the roof. Her nipples pressed into the cool, wet, glass. Her dress bunched up around her hips exposing that wonderful ass. The sight of her legs accentuated by her 4 inch heels has my cock as hard as it has ever been despite the rain whirling around us.

Surprised at my momentary absence Stacy turns her head to look at me. Seeing me gazing at her wanton display, she cheekily offers, “Take a picture. It will last longer.”

[I made a mental note to ask Stacy if she would model for me someday in the very near future.]

“Now get back over here and FUCK ME!”

Snapped out of my reverie, I drag my own shorts down, stride over to her, and position my rock-hard cock against the entrance to her pussy. As I slide in, we both exhale savoring the feel of our naked bodies pressed together as the rain falls around us. I reach forward with both arms, grabbing Stacy’s wrists and stretching her vertically as I begin pumping into her. We have no use for words at this moment, moving into a rhythm in which she thrusts back to match every one of my forward thrusts, trying to bring me as deep as possible.

Releasing her right wrist, I bring my hand down to begin rubbing her clit. I can tell by her irregular breathing and involuntary moans that she’s getting close. She uses her newly freed hand to grab her breast, toying with the nipple, bringing herself to even greater heights of ecstasy.

We’re riding together toward the conclusion we’ve long anticipated and it is everything we built it up to be in our minds. She has both hands on her breasts now. My left arm is supporting her torso while my right hand works feverishly on her clit. “Don’t stop,” she commands. “Don’t you fucking stop!” We keep going at this pace until I feel I cannot hold out any longer. “I’m coming!” I hear her scream into the stormy sky as she begins to shudder, her pussy contracting around my member as I continue to slam into her from behind. Her contracting pussy sends me over the edge, and I’m coming along with her. I’m still holding her with my left arm as she rides out her orgasm to her full enjoyment.

Eventually we come to our senses. I pop open the trunk and dig out two blankets I keep for emergencies. We wrap them around ourselves and get back into the car.

“Well, that was…unexpected,” Stacy says.

“Yes,” I reply. “I always imagined our first time together would be in a more conventional location. Still, I’m not complaining. After the way you teased me tonight, I don’t think I could have driven home safely. Thank you for making the trip to see my game.”

“I’m glad I remembered to toss my bag in the backseat while you were packing away your gear. I’ve a few items in there I would have hated to get wet this early in the weekend.”

“Oh?” I ask, “Anything you’d like to tell me about?”

“Let’s get to your place, so I can show you instead.”

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/t03v9l/she_distracted_him_while_he_played_hockeye