Chapter 1

Abby teased Brad during the season; she was going to give him a pre-game fuck for all his home games. She squatted naked behind him on the bed. He felt the warmth of her stomach and the coolness of her breasts against his back.

“Your shoulders seem so tense,” she commented, massaging them.

“Pre-game jitters, I guess.”

“I certainly know how to take care of that easily enough. I’m nervous too about going to sing the national anthem in front of so many people.”

“And on TV,” he added. “I know you’ll do great; you have a really good voice.”

She moved around and straddled his thighs, offering her firm breasts to his lips. Her eyes glistened with undying love and desire for Brad as he suckled on her nipples. She was his completely, and he, in turn, loved her like no one ever could. Karen, Dan, and Wendy smiled, hearing the sensual sounds of Abby cumming, then Brad. Great sex with his love took Brad’s mind off the impending hockey game, helping him relax, followed by a good nap.

Dan and Karen were so proud to be witnessing their son’s first Ontario Hockey League game. They set the digital recorder to tape the game while they attended the historic event. Karen dressed super sexy for Dan, wearing a medium blue short, low-cut dress as usual with no panties underneath. Wendy wore an identical dress, only in light grey. While the three drove Brad and Jake to the game and then went for a coffee, Abby and Brad’s sisters were equally sensually dressed, and had made posters supporting him and Jake. Scott and Vicky had an early supper with Peter, wondering what the game had in store for Peter and Brad.

Dan escorted his two lovelies into the coffee shop, where they received the stares of appreciative male customers. They sat with Karen and Wendy holding Dan’s hand, trying not to be too obvious about the closeness of their relationship.

Brad and Jake walked down the hockey arena hallway to the Falcons’ dressing room, clad in dark grey business suits. Every player was expected to wear a suit or sports jacket and slacks to and from each home game. They entered the dressing room expecting to be one of the first to arrive early, but most of the players were already changing into their uniforms.

Geesh, I thought we were early,” Brad commented, seeing the assembled group.

He smiled with pride, seeing his number twenty-seven and ‘Hayward’ stitched on the back of his sweater hanging above his seat next to Jake Campbell’s number sixteen. As he changed into his hockey uniform, the players made small talk and asked Brad what was anticipated for the past week. Would he fight Pete Kendall as payback for the cross-check that put him in the hospital? Conversely, this would be Pete Kendall’s first game back from his suspension, and his Frontenacs teammates wondered the same thing.

Brad had put on most of his hockey gear: shin pads, stockings, pants, skates, and next, his shoulder and elbow pads, and then his special rib protection. Unlike most players and at his Dad’s strong suggestion, Brad wore extra padded protection around his ankles and shock-absorbing wrist guards with the shorter cuffed hockey gloves the players now wore. He was awaiting the gloves their equipment manager was customizing to have longer, more protective cuffs for his wrists and forearms.

“The plastic over your skates will help to absorb the impact of slap shots against your ankles, and the guards will protect your wrists and arms from the hackers slashing at you,” he remembered his dad cautioning.

Brad placed his mouthguard on the bench, waiting for it to come to life like those joke false teeth that can chatter and move around. Jake laughed, looking at the funny-looking mouthguard.

“There’s no rule saying I can’t wear two mouth guards. It was my idea. After I got my upper and lower teeth impressions, Dad used the spring action of two large safety pins embedded inside the plastic like a hinge.” Brad put the mouth guard in his mouth and showed him he was able to drink and talk normally. “Now I have twice the protection against hard hits.”

Brad took his sweater off its hanger and again admired his last name and number. He ran his fingers over the stitched, raised numbers and letters to his name, giving him chills of pride and excitement. He slipped his arms through the sleeves, then over his head, stood and pulled his jersey down. One player began to clap his hands, and then another and another. Brad sat down as the applause grew by the numbers. He looked around, wondering who the sudden appreciation was for, and joined in clapping his hands.

“Why are we clapping our hands?” He asked, leaning toward Jake.

“We’re applauding for you.”

Why, for me, my first game isn’t that important to the guys.”

“It sure is to us. Besides, take a look at the front of your sweater,” Jake said.

Brad glanced down, then pulled the hem down, straightening it. He stared at the fierce-looking Falcon upside down.

“What is it?” He asked, not noticing anything different with the sweater. Jake pointed to the upper left of his chest. Brad looked, and there, by itself, was the capital letter A. “Holy shit, Assistant Captain?!” He exclaimed. “I don’t understand.”

Congratulations, buddy,” Jake smiled, offering his hand. Others followed, shaking Brad’s hand in appreciation. “Assistant Captain, I don’t understand.” He wondered again. “There must be some mistake.”

“I guess you should ask the coaches,” Jake suggested.

“I will.”

Brad walked on the protective rubber mat to the Coach’s office. “Excuse me, Coach Stanton and Coach Benton,” Brad asked, knocking on their office door. Frank and Carl looked up from their desks.

“Yes, Brad, what is it?” He pulled his sweater down straight and pointed to the A.

“Assistant Captain, I don’t understand.”

“Do you think we could honestly let you go from being our team’s coach to a player and not reward you for your efforts? Son, we played three games in four nights. You helped coach the team to four out of six points. Your teammates played hard hockey for you, and it’s proven in the results. As the coach, your leadership abilities shone very brightly.”

Coach Stanton continued, “As a rookie player, I don’t think you realize how much you’re respected by your teammates. At first, most were put off by your brash suggestions on ways to improve portions of their play, but they eventually listened to you. You are quite modest and easily deflect praise to other players.”

“You have become the first Major Junior player in the history of the CHL to ever coach a game before playing in one. Now you are the first CHL player to be named Assistant Captain for his team before playing his first game,” Frank complimented him, shaking his hand.

“General Manager Peterson suggested it, and we wholeheartedly agreed. I’ve got a feeling that you’re going to set a lot of records in your OHL career,” Coach Benson predicted.

“Thanks, I won’t let you down!” Brad’s cheeks were aching from smiling so much. He shook their hands and hurried back to the others.

“I guess it’s true. I don’t know what to say. Many of you older guys certainly deserve this over me,” he reflected on returning to his teammates.

“But none of us dared coach the team,” Dale said.

“I promise, I won’t let you guys down. Now let’s play a good, hard game!” They all cheered.

Brad finished putting on his equipment, and Dale had him stand first in line for the warm-up. “It’s tradition for the rookie in his first game to lead the team onto the ice,” Captain Dale Corbett smiled. Brad rocked side to side on his skates as the giant scoreboard timer counted to zero. The trainer had stacked the pucks on the edge of the boards, forming the word WIN.

The foghorn blared, and the loud rock music brought the arena to life. Brad brushed the pucks onto the ice and skated onto the smooth, clean surface. He loved the feeling and scratchy sounds of his sharp blades digging into the ice. He circled the left faceoff circle on their end, then realized he was the only one on the ice. The players gathered by the boards, slapping their sticks and laughing. He came to the bench, picked up a water bottle, and playfully sprayed several players.