
HockeyBitch Aphrodite
I discovered late in life that I’m an athlete. As a child I simply couldn’t compete as I couldn’t breathe, living with my father who was a heavy smoker; 4 packs a day smoker. Our white painted walls and ceilings were stained a sickly yellow, and I stunk of smoke all the time. As a result, I would horrifyingly be the second to last one picked for anything at gym time, second before the poor little fattest girl in school, Maureen. It was humiliating.
Not anymore! My lungs have healed and now, oh yes, I’m a fast little Goddess; it’s exhilarating after those painful formative years of gasping for air when I’d run. And nowadays I have endurance like nobody’s business.
Last September I took up Hockey after ditching nearly 10 years of Tae Kwon Do training (yes, I can kick your ass or at bare minimum surprise the shit out of you and run like hell). And now I’m just completely obsessed with it; I’m a self-titled hockeybitch. I love to play with the boys in a coed league, so I’m still getting my testosterone hit since leaving my first love, Tae Kwon Do.
The changing rooms at this league are coed, even. This makes for an interesting situation. Many men are not shy in the least, taking showers in the buff, not a care in the world if Aphrodite takes a peek. Which I do, of course, who doesn’t? And they sideways-ogle me when I take off my pants, but usually they take great pains not to show it, which is adorable, and I respect their effort. However they have no idea how much I don’t care that they might take a peek. Fuck, I work hard to keep fit. I’m not going to fuck you, but look all you like!
Anyway, at the last game the bathroom was coed as well, and lo and behold a young buck came in as I was removing my contacts and confidently strode right over to the urinal directly to my left, and facing away he spread his legs, whipped it out and peed. Cock in hand we had a polite little post game conversation.
“Good game out there.”
“Yeah, it was great. Good pace...” etc. etc.
You stole the puck from me you cocksure little wiener. But suddenly I have no problem forgiving. I was trying desperately to hide my astonishment and glee. My own darling husband can’t even pee in front of me, so I was just totally dumbfounded that he could break the seal with me standing 4 feet behind him.
I wrapped up and left, silently cursing my ingrained politeness. In hindsight I should have simply leaned against the sink, faced him, and kept chatting till he wrapped it up, tucked it away, and had to turn and face me, the little shit. Checkmate! I’m not exactly shy myself. Just polite, that’s all. And perhaps just not that ballsy.
Anyway, it’s nice to not be the second to last one picked anymore due to shitty smoke infested lungs. The guys have no qualms about passing to me, I can catch a puck and skate it up there with elation laden speed. Keeping up with the boys is a riot. It’s nice to come full circle in life.
Cheers to my dear, fat, sweet childhood comrade in slowness, Maureen, I hope she’s made her own full circle and become a hot sexy bitch shooting for playboy. She deserves it. Been there, and it sucked.

