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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.”
“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. ankara eryaman escort 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 escort elvankent down the stairs and to the arena doors. “How about a drink?” I asked.
“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 etimesgut escort bayan 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.
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