Spectating

Ice hockey has been a passion of mine since I was young. Something about the game fascinates me. Maybe living in the far northeast where winter is the longest season had something to do with it. Every kid I knew had a pair of hockey skates, not those effeminate skates with the little teeth on the toes, real skates built for speed and combat. The fact that everything froze solid for months was also a contributor. We all had hockey skates, hockey sticks and multiple pucks and we played on frozen ponds almost every day during the prolonged winter.

My passion for ice hockey continued long after I could no longer play the game, long after the rigors of the game required more than I had the physical ability to provide. As I aged, I turned my attention to following the games and skills of those better suited than I. I became a fan of the professional game.

The nearest city that hosted a National Hockey League team was hours away and I satisfied my love of the game by following the teams and players of the American Hockey League since there was a team nearby. I managed to scrape enough discretionary cash to invest in a season pass to the Utica Comets. My cheap seat was in the last row of section 203 of the Adirondack Bank Center where the Comets play their home games. I have one of the five seats squeezed in between the roof and the rest of the arena.

The arena is small with just over 3800 seats for hockey so the view from the top isn’t as bad as it sounds. The Comets generally sell out every game although there are usually empty seats scattered around the arena. The fans in the upper decks where I sit are among the most loyal and vocal of the Comets’ fans but, despite sellouts, empty seats are not unusual.

In any long season, the Comets play thirty-eight home games, fans generally spend considerable time talking to and befriending the fans around them. A woman about my age has the seat immediately in front of me. Her name is Adrienne and we discovered mutual attraction early in the season and spent much of the time before, during and after the game talking, mostly about the Comets and their prospects for the season. If the seat next to Adrienne was vacant, I would move down to sit next to her and ease the difficult two row, leaning forward and looking backward conversations. Over time, we enjoyed our time together but you really don’t know someone from their conversation alone.

The Comets play a decent game of hockey although they rarely get to the Calder Cup playoffs. However, during the last season the AHL contested for the Calder Cup due to Covid, they qualified for the first round. The first round of the Calder Cup consists of a best three of five game series. The games are played in a two-two-one format with the first two games at the home of the higher seeded team, the next two, the second if needed, at the lower seeded team’s home arena and the last game, if needed, again at the arena of the higher seeded team.

The Comets made the playoffs but were the lowest seeded team in their division. They had to play the first two games against Toronto, probably the best team in the entire league. So, on a Monday in late April, I was seated in the last row of section 203 of the Adirondack Bank Center waiting for the start of what could be the Comets last game of the season, down two games to none against Toronto.

Adrienne was seated in front of me. However, she was not her usual convivial self. She seemed preoccupied, frequently resting her head on her arms on the back of the empty seat in front of her. Even the start of the game didn’t seem to raise her spirits. After the Comets scored first, her mood didn’t seem to lighten.

I climbed over the empty seat beside her and tried to ask her what was bothering her. When I didn’t get much of a response I said, “Come on Adrienne. Talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Dylan, I just don’t feel well,” she answered.

“How could you not feel well? You’re at the game. Your team just scored. You should be jumping up and down and screaming just like the rest of us.”

“I’m just not into it tonight,” she said.

“Then why come?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I guess I didn’t have any place else to go.”

“What can I do to help?” I asked. “Talk to me. I’ll listen.”

“I can’t talk about it,” Adrienne said.

“I can get that,” I told her, “but you’re wound tighter than a drum.”

“What?” she asked.

“Your shoulders are stiff, your neck is rock hard and the rest of your body seems over stressed.”

“Is it that noticeable?” she asked.

“Yep, it is,” I confirmed. “I could help.”

“How?”

“If you’re comfortable with my touching you, I could rub and massage your back and shoulders gently. It might help you relax.”

“Would you? I’d like that,” Adrienne stated.

Utica scored again as I reached for Adrienne’s shoulder delaying me while I stood and yelled with thirty-eight hundred other fans.

When I sat down again, I carefully put my hand on Adrienne’s shoulder. She reacted slightly and I held my hand still for several moments. When she seemed at ease with my hand on her shoulder, I began to rub her shoulder in small circles. Over the next few minutes, Adrienne began to move her shoulder in response, moving in the opposite direction to my rubbing.

I moved closer to her, I slid my hand across her back and repeated the circular motion on her right shoulder with a similar result. I then used my fingers to increase the pressure on her shoulder with the intention of adding a slight massage to her shoulder.

Utica took that moment to score a third time. The arena exploded, including me. Even Adrienne looked up to see the celebration. When everyone settled down and the game was underway again, I resumed my position alongside Adrienne and began to massage her right shoulder. Always alert to the activity on the ice, I used my fingers and a small pressure from my palm to loosen the muscles of her shoulder. I moved back and did the same for her left shoulder.

“God, that feels good,” said Adrienne softly.

Her comment refocused my attention. Fortunately, there were no more goals for the rest of the period. Focused, I increased the area of Adrienne’s back that I rubbed and massaged. The first period ended and I paused my ministrations while those around us scrambled get relief and beer.

The second period started and so did I. I sat close to Adrienne and began rubbing her back again. She leaned over with her head on her arms again.

“You could rub lower, please,” Adrienne said.

I rubbed lower, my hand passing over her bra strap with each cycle. Adrienne sat up after a few moments. “That’s annoying,” she said as she reached up her back, under her shirt, unhooked her bra and pulled the ends apart. She pulled down her shirt again. “That’s better,” she said as she resumed her position leaning on her arms.

I continued massaging without the interference of her bra across her back. My male fantasies kicked in. I was sitting next to an attractive woman rubbing her back. She had undone her bra to help with the stroking. I wondered how far I could push the opportunity she was potentially offering.

I moved even closer to Adrienne and moved my free hand under her body and near her breast I knew was hanging mostly free beneath her shirt. She moved her arm slightly, offering me access. Hoping I was reading her body language correctly, I moved my hand up until I was holding her breast through her shirt and loose bra.

Adrienne cooed silently and pushed her chest closer to my hand. We stayed that way for the rest of the second period. Neither team scored and the period ended, causing the usual scurry of the fans for the restrooms and concessions. I removed my hands and we sat up to allow several fans to pass in front of us on the way to the stairway.

Adrienne stood up. “Excuse me,” she said. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Adrienne returned just as the third period started. She sat in the same seat. “I’m sorry I left in such a hurry. I had to pee and make some adjustments,” she said as she settled down and leaned forward on her arms again. “Where were we?” she asked.

I moved closer to her and began to rub her back again. After about two minutes, I reached up to hold her breast again. Her shirt was in place but her bra was missing. “I guess that’s what she meant by ‘some adjustments’,” I thought. Her breast felt much better without the interference of her bra. Warmer and smoother through her shirt.

Two minutes later, I took another leap of faith. She could take off her bra but not her shirt for obvious reasons. Maybe she’d be open to a more intimate connection between my hand and her breast. I moved my hand to the hem of her shirt, slipped underneath and back up until I was holding her naked breast.

Adrienne moaned softly. I pressed my hand against her breast and she pushed her breast into my hand. I continued to rub her back and shoulders. We sat together, me offering my hands to her body and her offering her breast to my hand for two or three minutes. Things were going so well, I thought I’d push a little further.

I moved my hand to Adrienne’s thigh. Her body stiffened slightly and then relaxed. My hand remained on her thigh until I began to move it upwards. Adrienne sighed, took my hand and placed in back on her breast where it remained until we were interrupted by the moans of the crowd as Toronto scored.

We never managed to return to the absolute bliss we had been sharing as the teams exchanged scores approximately every two minutes until the end of the period and the game.

Utica had won and kept their chances alive in the playoffs. The happy fans began streaming out of the arena. Adrienne and I had little choice. We had to leave too.

“Thank you, Dylan,” said Adrienne. “That was wonderful. I feel better now. Thank you again.”

“Glad I could be helpful,” I responded.

We walked together down the stairs and to the arena doors. “How about a drink?” I asked.

“A drink?”

“Not necessarily alcohol. Maybe a cup of coffee?” I hedged.

Adrienne thought for a brief moment. “Not tonight. Maybe if I felt better,” she said.

“See you Friday?” I asked.

“Game four?” said Adrienne. “Probably,” she half committed.

We went our separate ways. I watched her walk away. She turned to look back once and waved when she saw me watching. Then she disappeared into the crowd.

Game four was Friday, two days away. It was the longest two days I can remember. I thought about Adrienne constantly. Friday night I was in my seat at the arena over an hour before game time. The seat in front of me was empty and it was still empty when the game started.

Adrienne’s absence concerned me to the extent that I couldn’t focus on the game. I obsessed over why she wasn’t there. Did something bad happen to her? Did I go too far last Wednesday and she doesn’t want to see me again? What can I do to change her mind? Should I apologize and how could I do it?

Even after the Comets had won the game, forcing a fifth game, I couldn’t enjoy the victory with the rest of the crowd. I sat in my seat, just staring at the rink, until almost everyone else had left the arena. I realized I had to leave when the lights darkened and the cleaning crew was working its way through the seats.

I stood up, despondent, and turned to exit the row of seats. When I looked up, Adrienne was standing at the end of the row, a broad smile on her face. “Hey, Dylan, why the long face?” she asked.

My mood was instantly transformed. I barely heard her question in my joy at seeing her. “Adrienne,” I half cried. “Am I glad to see you. How long have you been standing there?” I asked.

“Since just before the end of the game,” she answered.

“How?” I asked.

“I have a ticket,” she said matter of factly.

“Why?” I managed to ask.

“I wanted to see you,” she said.

My heart missed a beat. “But not like the other night,” she added. “I wanted somewhere more comfortable. Somewhere more private.”

“Oh,” I said trying to understand what she was saying.

“I would like that drink with you now,” Adrienne said.

“Great,” I agreed.

I followed her down the steps and we walked together to the exit. Adrienne took my hand in hers as we walked. Outside, we stopped to plan. “Where would you like to go?” I asked.

“Someplace with alcohol, coffee and a bed,” she said.

I was immediately on the same page. “Your place or mine?” I asked.

“I think your place would be perfect,” Adrienne responded.

We walked together to my car. I held the passenger door for her and closed it gently when she entered. I drove us to my apartment. I got out of the car intending to open her door for her. Adrienne didn’t wait for me. She was standing outside the door, closing it, before I managed to walk around the boot.

We climbed the stairs in my building to the second floor and my apartment. I opened the door and held it open for her to enter first. “If I had known we were coming here, I would have picked up and straightened up a little.

“This is perfect,” Adrienne said as she turned, grabbed me and kissed me for the first time. I overcame my surprise, put my arms around her, kicked the door closed and returned the kiss. When we came up for air, I said, “Adrienne, I need to catch up with you. How about that drink?”

“Okay,” she said, “but don’t take too long,” she challenged.

“Deal,” I agreed. “What would you like?”

“What have you got?” she asked.

“Some beer, some vodka and a bottle of Baileys,” I told her.

“Ooh, the Baileys sounds wonderful, with lots of ice.”

I found two clean old-fashioned glasses, filled them with ice from the freezer and then with Baileys. We took the glasses into the living area and sat next to each other on the sofa. We toasted each other with a clink of the glasses and sipped the smooth liquor. Adrienne didn’t talk. She just began to unbutton her blouse. I couldn’t talk as I watched.

I watched as the last button slipped open and she pulled her blouse from the waist of her skirt. Her blouse hung open, barely covering her naked breasts. I took a sip of the Baileys and Adrienne pulled the sides of her blouse aside revealing her nipples and the fullness of her breasts. I should have anticipated what she intended and not taken the sip of alcohol. What was done was done. I gasped as she revealed her breasts and the Baileys was drawn up into my sinuses and nose. My eyes watered, my nose ran and I half coughed and gagged. I managed to retrieve my handkerchief from my pocket and contain the disaster but the damage was obvious.

“Are you okay?” a concerned Adrienne asked.

“I’ll be fine,” I choked out. “It’s just I wasn’t ready for the absolute beauty of your breasts.”

“Thank you,” she responded. She smiled and began to roll the side of the cold glass over her nipples. Her nipples responded as expected. I put my glass of Baileys on a table and focused my attention on Adrienne.

I watched as Adrienne slowly dripped the cold liquid from her glass onto her left nipple. “Oh, how careless of me. Look what I’ve done,” she cooed.

She took her wet breast in one hand and moved it toward her lips. “I can’t reach it,” she said. “It’s a shame to waste it. Could you help?”

Her invitation wasn’t necessary. I was already moving to capture the cold liquid on her breast with my tongue before it could drip on the upholstery. I knew this breast well but her nipple hadn’t been this firm in the arena. It also tasted wonderful as I ran my tongue around her nipple and breast attempting to gather all the chocolate flavor I could find.

Peripherally, I saw Adrienne drip more Baileys on her right nipple. She put her glass on the table and held her right breast up for me. Without pause, I moved between her breasts and began to clean up the spilled liquid. Adrienne held my head in her hands and pushed her breasts against my face.

When I was finished, I looked up. Adrienne was smiling broadly, approving my efforts. “Show me the rest of your apartment,” she said.

I stood and took her hand as she stood. She grabbed her drink with her free hand as I led her to the bedroom and the unmade bed. “Sorry for the mess,” I apologized. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“This is perfect,” Adrienne said. She pushed me to sit on the side of the bed and handed me her glass. I watched Adrienne remove her blouse. I watched as she looked for a place to put it. She located a chair in a corner and I watched as she walked slowly over to the chair and put her blouse over the back. I watched as she kicked off her shoes. I watched as she pulled the pins from her dark hair and allowed it to fall down her back and over her shoulders and I watched as she walked back in front of me.

Adrienne was obviously enjoying herself as she stood in front of me, rotated her skirt until the button and zipper were in front and opened both. When she let go, the skirt fell in a heap at her feet. She was wearing modest, but almost transparent panties. I could see the edges of the perfect triangle of dark, neat pubic hair pressed against her abdomen by her panties.

Adrienne stepped out of her skirt, picked it up and folded it neatly. She walked over to the chair, placed the folded skirt on the seat and walked back in front of me. I watched her the entire time.

Slowly, Adrienne put her fingers in the waist of her panties and began to move them down. My heartbeat thundered in my head as she revealed her perfect vulva. She kicked her panties behind her and turned around to pick them up. She bent over with her legs straight to reach her panties. The pounding in my head increased as I focused on her perfect labia from behind.

She folded her panties and walked to and from the chair, leaving her panties on top of her skirt. Standing once again in front of me, she put a hand on one hip and spread her legs slightly. “Are you alright?” she asked.

“Adrienne,” I managed to say. “If I was any more alright I’d have to go to confession.”

Adrienne laughed quietly, took her glass from me, took a small sip, and ran her tongue over her lips and the cold glass over her nipples again. This time when she spilled the cold liquid, it missed her breasts and settled in her pubic hair where it ran down. By the time I got on my knees in front of her to help with the cleanup, the cold liquid had warmed and was draining over her clitoris and between her lips.

Adrienne’s hands held my head and her legs spread further to assist me in my quest to leave no drop unlicked. “Fuck,” Adrienne said. “Dylan, I have to sit down.”

We maneuvered around until Adrienne was on the side of the bed on her back with her legs spread. My face was buried between her thighs and my tongue was exploring her clitoris, her labia, her vaginal opening, her perineum and her rectum. I continued exploring long after the more organic flavor of Adrienne herself had replaced the flavor of the Baileys.

My impression was that Adrienne was approaching an orgasm and I was determined to help her get there. As her orgasm approached, I slid two fingers inside her vagina and pressed her clitoris from the inside with my fingers and from the outside with my tongue. As her orgasm arrived, the liquid from the Baileys was replaced by the liquid from Adrienne.

As her orgasm faded into the background, Adrienne said, “Enough. Enough for now. Help me sit up.”

I got up and offered her a hand to help her sit on the edge of the bed. Adrienne looked down at her body and then up at mine. “Which of these things is not like the other?” she posited.

Adrienne lay on her side with a huge smile, her head supported on her hand and one leg up and the other extended. I could see her glistening labia as I began to undress. It took less than a minute. She beckoned me to come closer to the bed. I don’t know where it came from but she had the glass of Baileys in her hand again. She grinned devilishly as she began to drip the cold liquid on my raging erection.

Before the valuable liquid could drain from my testicles, she had her mouth on them and was sucking the flavor. Adrienne pulled me on the bed alongside her and began searching with her tongue and lips for any missing Baileys. She was very effective in her search. The way she wrapped her mouth around my erection and lapped the alcohol with her tongue caused me to approach my own orgasm.

Before I could warn her of my impending release, she let my erection fall from her mouth, rolled over on the bed, turned around and tried to pull me on top of her. With my assistance, I ended on top of her, supporting my weight with my elbows on the bed and staring into her steely gray eyes. Her lips pursed and I kissed her. Her mouth opened and our tongues danced together. I could feel Adrienne’s nipples against my chest and my erection probing between her swollen labia.

She lifted and spread her legs. I slid easily inside her and pushed slowly until I was in as far as I could go. We hung together, kissing and unmoving, until Adrienne shifted her hips upward. I took that as a signal to begin my own movements. I was reciprocating rapidly within her and I could feel her body stiffening and pushing back with each stroke. I interpreted her response as an impending orgasm. That was good since I was approaching an orgasm of my own.

Adrienne’s orgasm was accompanied by a soundless howl and a compression of my erection inside her. When she relaxed, I exploded inside her. We lay alongside each other, breathing rapidly and recovering. I was idly running a finger around the edge of her right nipple.

“Adrienne,” I asked, “are we alright?”

“What do you mean by alright?” she asked in return.

“You know. We’ve known each other casually for years. Distant friends with a common interest and we’ve suddenly shared something so intimate that I still don’t understand why,” I tried to explain.

“Dylan, we’re more than alright. Where we are right now is perfect. It’s just been too long in coming.”

“Help me understand,” I said.

“Last Wednesday, you were so comforting, so soothing even without knowing why I needed you to be. I was deeply wounded and you healed me. Without detail, I had just discovered someone I cared deeply about, someone I wanted to spend my life with, someone I had been saving myself for, for years, was a fraud. Not just a fraud, a person who, once he had what he wanted, disappeared as if he had never existed. I took me a week to figure out he was never coming back and it almost broke me, until Wednesday evening with you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” I said.

“You don’t have to say anything. Wednesday your touch said everything there was to say. You massaged me. You held me and I felt safe. Safer than I’d ever felt before. I wanted you to touch me, to caress me. I melted as you held my breast but when you touched my thigh, I stopped you. I didn’t want to but I stopped you anyway. I couldn’t understand why I stopped you, until this afternoon when I realized that Wednesday wasn’t the right time or place and tonight was.

“So here we are and I was right. I know in my heart I was right. The last hour was the best, loving hour I’ve ever experienced and I know now that my life so far has been a learning experience and a prelude to the rest of my life. If I can find you, I can find my perfect love, my soul mate. Thank you for pulling me back from the edge.”

“Now I really don’t know what to say,” I admitted.

“Don’t say anything, just kiss me,” suggested Adrienne.

One kiss led to another kiss and eventually to Adrienne kneeling astride me and welcoming me inside her a second time. She rode me. We rolled over, I lifted her legs and pushed inside her. We rolled over several times and ended as we had started, only Adrienne was howling, her eyes were tearing, her body tensing and her vagina clenching. I was holding her hips tightly, pushing into her and expelling pulse after pulse of semen inside her.

We collapsed on the bed, exhausted. Several minutes later, Adrienne slithered off the bed. “I have to pee,” she said.

For balance and support, Adrienne held onto the bed, the dresser and then the doorway as she headed for the bathroom. She was gone longer than I thought necessary. She finally returned, looking refreshed and holding a huge glass of ice cubes in one hand and the bottle of Baileys in the other. She sat on the bed and wiggled in front of me, sitting cross-legged.

I watched as she poured Baileys over the ice in the glass. She handed me the glass and I took a sip of the smooth liquid. I handed the glass back to her and she took a healthy swallow. Laughing, she looked me in the eyes and asked, “Dylan, I love that I’m here with you right now. Do you think sex can be as much fun as it is healing?”

She didn’t wait for a response. She fished an ice cube from the glass, leaned over the side of the bed to put the glass and the bottle on the floor and then sat upright in front of me again. She took the ice cube and began to rub it around her right nipple. I watch, fascinated, as the ice cube melted and her nipple bulged. She repeated the ice cube treatment on her left nipple until the ice cube completely melted and her nipples were symmetrical. As the cold water dripped from her nipples, I leaned in, intending to test the stiffness of her nipples with my tongue.

“Hold on soldier,” she said. “I’m not finished.

Adrienne leaned over and retrieved the glass of ice. She fished out another cube and handed me the glass. “Hold this,” she said.

She put the ice cube in her mouth, leaned over and took my relaxed penis in her mouth. She used her tongue to move the ice around my glans and, when the ice melted, she pushed her cold tongue into the opening at the tip of my erection. She brought her head up and removed two more ice cubes from the glass. One cube went into the mouth and her mouth surrounded my erection again. The other one went into her right hand and it began to hold and squeeze my testicles. The cold was stimulating and unexpectedly arousing.

After the ice melted, Adrienne sat up in front of me again, retrieved the glass and poured two cubes into my hand. “Your turn,” she said as she lay back on the bed and spread her legs.

She had a devilish smile as she watched me put one cube in my mouth and leaned in to kiss her clitoris. She reacted audibly as I sucked her clitoris into my mouth and pressed the ice cube against it. I used the other cube in my hand to stroke and rub her labia. She reacted more strongly when the cube disappeared into her vagina.

“Shit, that’s cold,” she exclaimed.

“Hold on,” I told her. “I’ll get it out.”

“No. No. Leave it there. It’ll melt. It’s already feeling better,” she shared.

“You’re nuts, you know,” I told her.

“Maybe. Are you having fun?” she asked.

“Yeah, this is fun,” I admitted.

“Then welcome to nuts,” Adrienne said.

Ice, tits, pussy and nuts occupied us for the next twenty minutes. We were on our knees. I was behind her, buried inside her and there was one small ice cube left in the glass. I retrieved the wayward ice and pressed it against her rectum.

“Oooh,” she said. “Push it inside.”

I moved the ice around on her rectum until it was smooth, without edges and pushed it slowly into her ass. “Oooh,” she repeated. “Is there more ice?” she asked.

“Nope,” I told her. “That was the last piece.”

“What else do we have?” she asked.

“For what?” I asked innocently.

“To put in my ass, silly,” she informed me.

I wet my finger and put it against her sphincter. “Yeah. Do that,” Adrienne said.

I pushed and my wet finger slid into Adrienne’s wet rectum. “Damn, that feels good,” she moaned. “Anything larger?” she asked.

“Not that I can see,” I answered.

“That’s because it’s hidden inside me,” Adrienne explained.

“Are you nuts? You want me to put my cock in your ass?” I asked.

“We’ve already agreed I’m nuts but I’m having fun. What about you? You’re nuts too. Have some fun.”

“You’re sure?” I asked for confirmation.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” Adrienne said. “So?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If it hurts, I’ll let you know and you can stop,” she conceded.

I backed out of her vagina, placed the head of my erection against her rectum and slid it around for lubrication.

“Stop teasing,” Adrienne complained.

“Okay,” I agreed. “Just a little more lubrication.”

I reentered her and then pressed my freshly greased cock against her rectum and pushed without much success. I pushed harder. I felt Adrienne take a deep breath, stiffen her spine and push back. Suddenly, the end of my erection was inside her.

“You okay?” I asked.

“I’m okay. I’m having fun. Go for it,” she insisted.

I began a reciprocating motion in her ass. Adrienne matched my rhythm, pushing when I pushed, pulling when I pulled. I was inside her further than I’d ever been inside anyone. She seemed to have no end. Each stroke ended when my pubic hair pressed against the smooth skin of her cheeks and my balls swung forward to impact her labia. As different as the experience was, I could feel the beginnings of an orgasm. Adrienne’s vocals and physical movements indicated she was approaching her own orgasm. I squeezed my pelvic muscles, hoping to prolong the feeling. I lost the battle when Adrienne lost hers. Together we launched into the orgasmic void and fell on our sides, exhausted, with me still inside her.

“Shit,” said Adrienne.

“Everything but,” I responded.

Adrienne laughed and I felt her body caressing my slowly softening erection. I moved, intending to pull my cock from her ass.

“What are you doing?” Adrienne asked.

“I have to pee,” I told her.

“So, pee,” she said.

“What?” I asked confused.

“Just pee,” she repeated.

“I’m still inside your ass,” I informed her.

“I know that. That’s why I suggested it,” Adrienne asserted.

“You’re crazy, you know,” I told her.

“Crazy in a nutty way,” she replied. “Just let it go. I want to feel what it’s like,” she added.

I considered the ramifications for a moment. “I don’t know if I can,” I stated.

“What does that mean? You have to pee. I want you to pee. I’ll bet you’ve never been unable to pee before. What’s the problem?” she said.

“It doesn’t seem sanitary,” I told her.

“It doesn’t seem sanitary!” Adrienne exclaimed. “Dylan you’re talking about my ass. I guarantee you there’s been a lot of things up there more unsanitary than your pee, including your fingers. Stop procrastinating. Pee already.”

So, I did.

Hot liquid flowed from my cock. It flowed up deeper into her and down, bathing my cock in hot liquid like I’d never experienced before.

“Fuuuuccck,” howled Adrienne.

Startled, I asked, “Are you alright?”

Recovering, Adrienne responded, “Yeah. I’m fine. It was hotter than I expected.”

“Me too,” I added.

“Damn,” said Adrienne. “I felt boiling liquid up into my tits and my ovaries are still tingling.”

Unassisted, my hot cock slipped from Adrienne’s rectum.

Adrienne leapt off the bed. “Shit, I’m leaking everywhere,” she said as she ran bowlegged toward the bathroom with urine dripping from both hands between her legs trying, unsuccessfully, to contain the flood.

Five minutes later I heard the toilet flush and the shower start.

I got off the bed and headed for the bathroom. Adrienne was standing outside the shower with one hand testing the water temperature. I headed for the toilet to wipe my cock and Adrienne climbed into the shower. I warmed up a washcloth in the sink, intending to clean up my cock and balls.

“Don’t bother,” called Adrienne from the shower. “Join me and we can help each other.”

We focused more on cleaning than the possibility of sex in the shower. Adrienne cleaned up well. I especially enjoyed the silky feel of her soapy breasts and she seemed just as fascinated with spreading the soap around on my penis.

We dried each other with clean towels and headed back to the bedroom. Adrienne took one look at the bed and asked, “This won’t do. Do you have another set of sheets?”

“Nope,” I answered. “What you see is all I’ve got.”

She began to strip the sheets off the bed. “I guess we’ll just have to wash these then. Where’s your washing machine?”

“In the basement,” I said.

“In the basement?” she echoed. “You don’t have your own washer and drier?”

“No. The tenets share them.”

Adrienne tossed the bundle of sheets on the floor and started looking for her clothing. “I’ll need to wear something if I’m taking the sheets to the basement,” she said.

I grabbed a robe from my closet. “Here, wear this,” I said.

She looked at me strangely. “You think that’s enough to wear?”

“Sure, nobody’s going to see you. It’s late. No one does laundry at one in the morning.”

“Okay, if you think so,” she agreed and put on the robe.

“Do you have detergent and quarters?” she asked.

“I’ll get the soap and you don’t need quarters. The washers are included in the rent,” I told her. “And I’m going with you,” I added.

I put on a pair of shorts, grabbed my keys and we headed barefoot for the washers and driers in the basement.

We were back and hour and forty-five minutes later with clean, warm sheets. We had managed to find things to entertain us while we waited for the machine cycles to finish. Together we made the bed.

We toasted each other with more Baileys, ditched the robe and shorts and snuggled into the bed together. We slept, changing positions, spooning with each other and wrapped in each other’s arms until after ten Saturday morning. “Shit,” it was my weekend to work.

When I saw the time, I called my boss and told him I was suffering from an unexplained case of diarrhea. He told me to take whatever time I needed.

“Diarrhea?” asked Adrienne when I hung up.

“Yeah. If I was just not feeling good or had the sniffles or the flu, he would have told me to come to work. I knew diarrhea wasn’t something he wanted to deal with in the office,” I explained.

My cupboard was barren of anything wholesome to eat so we decided to go out to breakfast. I found an iron, unused since my mother gave it to me when I moved out and Adrienne gave her blouse and skirt a quick press on the kitchen table. She put on the blouse and skirt, no underwear. I put on a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, also without underwear. We found our shoes and we headed out.

“I’ll drop you at your car at the arena after breakfast,” I suggested.

“Why would you do that?” Adrienne asked. “Are you uncomfortable with me being here with you?” she added.

“Not at all,” I told her. “I was just being polite,” I said.

“You can be polite Sunday afternoon,” she responded. “Meanwhile, where are we going for breakfast?”

I was thinking about two days and another night with Adrienne as I drove to a hole in the wall café that made incredible omelets and crepes, had the best coffee in town and a waitress named Betty with enormous tits, a half-buttoned shirt and a too short skirt.

Midway through breakfast, Adrienne asked, “Did you bring me here for the great food or just so you could admire the bouncing Bettys?”

“You got me,” I said.

“What’s wrong with my tits?” she asked.

“Nothing,” I quickly answered. “Actually, I prefer your tits to hers.”

“Why’s that?” she asked just as quickly.

“I can touch yours,” I said with a lusty grin.

“You’re an idiot,” she said with a huge smile.

“In a nutty way,” I added.

I paid the bill, left my usual over large tip and we headed back to my apartment.

Back in the apartment, Adrienne quickly kissed me and headed for the bedroom. By the time I got there, her blouse and skirt were on the chair and she was in the bed waiting for me. I stripped and joined her. We started slowly, with hugs and kisses and had sex, the kind of sex you have after eating.

We added more physical activities as the day continued. We showered again, dressed in the same clothes again and went to dinner. I choose a small, intimate Italian restaurant. We were seated at a four-person table against the wall. Adrienne sat on my left, a deliberate choice of mine since I was right-handed and with her on my left, I could eat with one hand and massage the inside of her thigh with my left hand. It was humorous watching right-handed Adrienne trying to eat with her left hand while stroking me through my pants with her right hand.

Back in the apartment, we curled up on the sofa to watch the NHL Saber’s game. Adrienne continued to stroke me through my pants which lead to both of us stripping off our clothing again. Free from clothing, Adrienne was more interested in the state of my penis than watching the game. Soon, she was leaning over my body with my cock sucked into her mouth. She was constantly adjusting her technique as my cock grew into an erection and I lost interest in the game as well.

Adrienne repeatedly tried to allow the entire length of my erection into her mouth. She repeatedly choked and gagged but she refused to quit. Each time she changed her angle, she was able to get her mouth further down on me. I was against the top of her throat when she pushed again and I slipped past the back of her mouth and into her throat. Surprised, she held the position for several seconds before she retreated to take a breath.

Knowing she could swallow the end of my cock, the next attempt Adrienne pushed until her nose was buried in my pubic hair and my cock well past the top of her throat. I imagined that I could see the bulge my cock created in her throat. Pleased with her new skill, she took a deep breath and swallowed my erection. She began to use her throat muscles as if she was swallowing and the ripples on my erection threatened to start an unstoppable process that was certain to lead to an orgasm.

I warned her about the possibility before her next plunge. She took a deeper breath and took another nosedive. Her muscle squeezing created the predicted result and I squeezed a dollop of semen deep into her throat. She swallowed my offering and set off another pulse. When my pulsing ceased, Adrienne sat up, laughing, gasping and choking all at the same time.

“Proud of yourself?” I asked.

“Damn straight,” she said victorious while coughing. “It’s a hell of a lot better than Bailey’s.”

I pushed her back onto the bed and began to kiss her breasts. I continued down her torso, past her navel and into her pubic hair.

“You think you can do better?” she asked.

“It’s not a contest. I’m just looking for equal opportunity,” I answered.

I tongue found the head of her clitoris already emerging from under its hood. “Oooh, this is going to be fun,” Adrienne commented.

That was the last understandable words she uttered for the next twenty minutes. I focused on her clitoris with my tongue and lips until I was having difficulty keeping her body reasonably quiet. Almost reflexively, Adrienne’s legs came up alongside my head and she squeezed her thighs against my ears. I pushed her thighs up and apart with my hands and refocused my tongue and lips between her labia and inside her vagina as deeply as I could manage.

I moved over her perineum and pushed my tongue against her rectum without success. I reversed course and pushed a finger into her ass and my tongue found the inside of her vagina again. My tongue continued upward back toward her clitoris and I added another finger in the space it abandoned. I captured her clitoris between my lips and added movement of my fingers in her vagina and rectum. Adrienne lost her composure within minutes. Her body shook, her toes curled, her legs shot straight out, her thighs squeezed my face and hand and her prolonged wail rose until it was beyond human hearing.

Exhausted, Adrienne pulled me up on top of her, kissed me with abandon and wrapped her arms tightly around me as her tense shaking receded. “Fuck, that was intense,” she eventually said. She rolled up, over and settled down on my recovered erection. “Don’t move. Just let me enjoy the feeling of you inside me,” she whispered.

Eventually, my erection deflated and I slipped from inside her. Adrienne rolled off me, out of the bed and headed for the bathroom. When she returned she was holding a hot washcloth. “I was a sticky mess,” she said, “and I assumed you were too.” She used the washcloth to clean my cock and balls the threw the cloth over the bed into the hallway leading to the bathroom. She climbed on the bed and immediately jumped off.

“Shit that’s cold,” she said. “Is all that puddle from me?” she asked.

“Not all,” I said.

“Either way, we can’t sleep on those sheets,” she asserted.

“Back to the laundry?” I asked.

“Seems so. Get your ass out of the bed and help me strip the sheets again.”

Adrienne stood, holding the sheets in her arms. She looked at the clock. “Almost two am,” she said. “Do you think anyone will be in the laundry room at this hour?” she asked.

“What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I wonder if we need clothing,” she answered.

I grabbed the detergent and the keys and we headed for the laundry room in the basement. If anyone saw us we had the wet, sticky sheets to hide behind.

No one was in the basement. We threw the sheets into the washing machine and began the wait. We had sex for fun while we waited. Adrienne sat in my lap on the plastic chair and my predictable reaction provided all the incentive she needed. We had another quick fuck with Adrienne bent over the washer while we waited for the dryer to finish.

On the way back to the apartment, we heard a noise in the hallway above us and we rushed up the last flight of stairs and back into the apartment. I fumbled with the key in my haste and dropped it on the floor. When I finally got the door open, we rushed in and slammed the door. Adrienne fell against me, laughing. “Fuck me, that was close,” she managed to say.

“Literally or figuratively?” I asked.

“Oooh, literally would be nice,” Adrienne cooed.

“Right here or after we make the bed?” I asked.

“Why not both?” she challenged.

She jumped into my arms, my erection settled between her legs and we pounded on each other with her off the floor, back against the door and legs and arms around my body.

We made the bed and climbed in, cuddled up and fell asleep.

Most of the rest of the world was well into Sunday before we surfaced. Sunday followed the pattern established on Saturday. Breakfast out, penis in until dinner time and dinner out followed by more penis in, washing sheets in the middle of the night and sleep until late Monday morning.

Late Monday morning, we decided to go to at the seedy café with the great food, and Betty’s bounding boobs again. Adrienne pressed her skirt and blouse again and added her domestic touch to a pair of my Dockers and a collared shirt for me. Neither of us could find Adrienne’s panties. She told me to keep them if I found them, an offer I was happy to accept.

The food was its usual quality and the floor show exceptional. Betty undid two buttons on her blouse between taking our order and delivering our meals. Either she wasn’t wearing a bra or had removed it while she was away from our table. Adrienne was as focused as I was. She even commented on the possibility of needing two hands to contain Betty’s bouncing boobs if one of them was to break free.

Back in my car after gorging ourselves on gourmet food, I suggested I drive her back to the arena parking area to retrieve her car.

“I’m not ready to call it quits on the long weekend,” said Adrienne. “Why don’t we go back to your place for a while and see what comes up,” she quipped as she reached for my crotch the hundredth time since Friday night.

Back in my place, Adrienne seemed determined to finish our long weekend together in grand style. For an hour, she couldn’t decide whether she wanted my erection in her mouth or her vagina. Her howling orgasm while astride me settled the issue. My accompanying orgasm required at least a thirty-minute break.

She appeared to be on a quest to recap everything we had tried in the previous sixty-two hours except for my urinating in her ass. Just after three in the afternoon, we both came while I fucked her ass. We took showers, dressed for the final time and settled in front of the television to watch the fifth game of the Comets first round series against Toronto on the local Fox channel. We had missed the game. It had been on Sunday. An internet search discovered the Comets had lost. We got undressed again and hopped back in bed.

Late afternoon, I drove Adrienne to the abandoned arena parking lot. I had no idea what her car looked like or where she had parked it but it wasn’t difficult to find. I drove up to the only car in the lot and we both got out.

At the open driver’s door of Adrienne’s car, we hugged and kissed. I felt an empty sadness as Adrienne settled into her car and drove away. I stood, watching her car as it drove across the parking lot, through the gate and turned right on the highway.

On the way home, I reminisced about the long weekend we had shared and promised myself to somehow arrange a repeat occurrence. I suddenly realized that we had not exchanged phone numbers and it was going to take some effort to call her. I also didn’t know her last name, a hint of where she lived or worked and I hadn’t a clue about the license number of her car. All I had was her first name and the fact she loved ice hockey.

I found over twelve women in Utica with the name Adrienne. None of them resembled the Adrienne I was seeking and there were over one hundred other towns and cities within forty miles. Facebook and the other social media weren’t much more help. I also didn’t know any of the other regulars in section 203 who might have been able to help.

After weeks of frustrating searches, I was resigned to having to wait until the start of the next AHL season when I hoped Adrienne would be in her usual place in section 203.

The Utica Comets first home game was scheduled for October 16th against Syracuse, six months away. The months dragged by. I quickly bought my season ticket for the same seat as the previous season. On October 16th, I was at the arena two hours early and had to wait for the doors to open before I could climb to my seat.

When the referee dropped the first puck, Adrienne’s seat remained empty. About five minutes into the game, an overweight gentleman about fifty years old, struggled into the row in front of me and settled into Adrienne’s seat. He was there again on Friday for the game against Charlotte. I went home that night convinced that something had happened to Adrienne that caused her to change her schedule and I was probably not going to see her again.

Covid didn’t help my funk. However, spending more time in my apartment did have a silver lining. I got to know my neighbors better.

I began to do my laundry in the middle of the night, probably as a way to remember Adrienne. One night, I was sitting in the lone plastic chair that had entertained Adrienne and me on a night long ago, when I was joined by Bernadette, my next-door neighbor. I gave her my seat and we talked while we waited for our laundry to finish. Bernadette was wearing a simple, one-piece dress and, I suspected, nothing under it.

Somehow, during our conversation, Bernadette shared that she was glad she had worn something when she came into the basement to do her laundry. When I inquired about her comment, she shared that she often didn’t bother to dress since she was usually alone at two am in the morning.

I laughed, probably harder than her comment should cause. She gave me a curious look and smiled. “You too?” she asked.

“Me too,” I admitted.

Bernadette laughed. “I guess I’m not as unique as I thought I was. I do it so I can wash everything at the same time,” she explained.

“I do it because it feels good, especially if I’m not alone,” I confessed.

“Interesting,” said Bernadette. “Would you do it in the nude again?” she asked.

“Probably,” I said.

“So would I,” she said.

“Wednesday night?” I asked.

“Looking forward to it,” Bernadette responded.