[The Hypnotized Ice Hockey Player] Author: Unknown

The Hypnotized Hockey Player (
Word Count: 9990)
I've known Brett for years; we played on the same hockey team in Minnesota back in fifth grade. We were best friends until college, always playing on the same team. It was a little disheartening to be on the same team as him, because Brett was a natural athlete, and his talent always made him the team captain. After high school, Brett stayed in Minnesota for college, while I went to a school in the far north of New York and joined a minor league team in Canada.
For several years after that, I lost touch with Brett, but now, eight years later, we've met again on the same semi-professional team in Denver. Brett had been on the team for a while, while I was a newcomer. I didn't know what I expected of him, but from the moment the phone connected, I knew our friendship had never changed. Our friendship, which had been paused years ago, was now vibrant again, and he even invited me to live with him until I found a suitable place to live.
Brett had a nice two-bedroom apartment, and he gave me the spare bedroom. The day I moved in, he opened the door shirtless, wearing only sweatpants. He was moving some odds and ends into my room, sweating profusely. I stared at him, his broad, flat chest rising and falling with his breath, a sight that secretly pleased me. Clearly, he maintained his impressive physique.
Brett was about my size. 1.83 meters tall and about 88 kilograms. I was naturally blond and blue-eyed, while he had tawny hair and brown eyes. I must say, he was the epitome of the boy next door. A true American athlete.
"Hey! Mark! Come on in!" he said with a smile, wiping his sweaty hands on his sweatpants before reaching out.
"Oh, wait a minute, I'll go get dressed!"
Brett was always so humble. Even though he was a heartthrob in high school, he never flaunted his physique or anything like that. I didn't know why. If I had such a heaven-sent physique, I'd be showing it off all the time!
"Thanks!" I replied, dragging my suitcase into the lobby.
"My rest of my luggage is in the van."
"We can get it later," he said.
"Let me show you around your room." He put on his t-shirt, picked up his suitcase, and headed upstairs.
I followed behind, secretly admiring his beautiful buttocks as he went upstairs. Even though he was wearing sweatpants, I could tell without hesitation that he had a fantastic butt. Brett's sweatpants slipped down slightly as he strode up the stairs, and slowly, part of the belt and the edge of his underwear became clearly visible. White. Hmm, still looks the same, Brett. Still as fit as a saint, and still loves wearing white underwear all these years.
Brett probably doesn't know that I tasted his body the weekend we won the state championship in high school.
That weekend, our teammate Koski threw a celebration party. Without parental or coach interference, it was a celebration party just for our entire team. Frank, Koski's cousin who had just graduated, provided the food and drinks, and the party was held at his house. Brett hadn't planned to go, but I specifically told him he had to. During the party, I told Frank Brett didn't drink, but he laughed and said not to worry, he'd "teach" Brett a lesson. Frank went to the kitchen and poured a large glass of orange juice. However, I happened to see him add some vodka to it. I knew very well that Brett had never touched alcohol before, so I imagined how funny it would be for him to get drunk. Brett looked bewildered and probably hadn't eaten much else, because Frank kept refilling his glass, each one larger than the last. After four glasses, Brett finally couldn't take it anymore, staggering around and occasionally letting out hearty laughter. Frank put his arm around his shoulder and grinned as he handed him another glass of spiked juice. I had seen him add more than half a percent vodka to it earlier. Brett downed the juice in a few gulps, and unsurprisingly, he was practically passed out. Frank helped me carry Brett upstairs to his bedroom and told him to lie down and rest.
I'd only planned to go downstairs for a short walk and come back to check on Brett, but for some reason, my suddenly enthusiastic friends had kept me there for almost half an hour. When I got back upstairs, I was stunned in the doorway. Frank was sitting on the bed, with Brett leaning against him. Brett's jeans were pulled down to his ankles, and Frank's restless hands were kneading his increasingly erect member through Brett's underwear. Brett seemed completely oblivious, dazed and confused. His eyes were half-open, and his head was lazily resting on Frank's shoulder. I watched quietly from the side as Frank took a small brown bottle from the bedside table, opened it, and waved it under Brett's nose. Brett's face contorted, and I heard him groan. Frank laid him flat on the bed, quickly pulled down his underwear, and began sucking Brett's big dick.

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