Rating: NC-17, PWP
Original Date of Completion: May 2002
Pairing: Brent Johnson/Dan Cloutier/Chris Osgood
Disclaimer: I do not own Brent Johnson, Dan Cloutier, The St. Louis Blues, or Vancouver Canucks. I did own Chris Osgood once, but I sold him for a Slurpee. So yeah, don't sue me. This is a work of fiction from my demented little mind.
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Brent Johnson was embarrassed. He'd been named the starter for the St. Louis Blues. They rode to the playoffs on his back. And now they were sending him to goalie camp. All because they lost to Detroit in five games. 'Don't blame me.' Brent thought to himself as he boarded the bus for goalie camp. 'Its Pronger's fault. He knew they'd suck without him.'
Brent was fuming mad the entire ride to camp. When he arrived, his embarrassment only increased. Goalie camp was nothing more than a child's summer camp, with a banner saying "Welcome NHL Goalies." Brent shook his head as he stepped from the bus. A man in a Red Wings hat, carrying a clipboard came rushing up to him. Brent grimaced as he read the name tag on the man: "Counselor Bob." 'Counselors?' Brent thought to himself. 'You've got to be fucking kidding me.'
"Hello Mr. Johnson, I'm Counselor Bob," Bob explained in an incredibly shrill, feminine voice, extending his hand to Brent. Brent didn't shake it, and kept on walking. "I'll be in charge of you over the next few days,"
"In charge of me?" Brent laughed, stopping in his tracks. "I don't think so. It was explained to me what I have to do here, and listening to you is not that. Now if you don't mind, Counselor Bob, show me to my cabin and stay out of my face,"
Brent snickered to himself as Counselor Bob looked like he was going to cry. Bob didn't try to argue with Brent. Instead, he gave him a piece of paper telling him what cabin he'd be in, and whom he'd be rooming with. A grin came to Brent's face as he saw who his roommate is; Dan Cloutier. As thoughts of Cloutier run through his mind, Brent felt his cock beginning to harden. Completely ignoring Counselor Bob, who'd yet to walk away, Brent reached down and adjusted himself. He flashed a smirk at Counselor Bob, then walked off to find his cabin.
When he arrived at his cabin, Cloutier had yet to arrive. Brent picked a bed, and sat down to unpack his stuff. He'd only packed one bag of non-hockey things. And even that only consisted of jeans, t-shirts and socks. Brent had boycotted underwear since he was 15, so they weren't needed. As he pulled the last of his clothes from the bag, he noticed something he'd forgot he'd brought, lube. He reached down and adjusted his rapidly hardening 7 incher again. He pulled the lube from his bag and tucked it behind his pillow.
"If I get my way, you'll see action tonight," He said aloud, patting the pillow.
Brent shoved his clothes messily into the dresser beside his bed. He kicked his bag under the bed, then grabbed a towel from the stack atop the dresser. He pulled his t-shirt off, revealing the sculpted torso he'd worked so hard on, and threw it to the bed. He slung the towel over his shoulder and made his way from the cabin.
On his walk to the showers, Brent noticed more of his fellow goalies arriving. He paid no attention to any of them. His cock ached at the thought of Dan Cloutier and he wanted to save all of his energy for that. But as Brent entered the showers, he knew immediately that wouldn't last. Right before his eyes, Chris Osgood was jerking off. Brent drooled at the sight. He stood at the door staring as Chris' hand flew up and down his, at least 8 inch shaft. Brent was not content to just watch. He slipped from his jeans and crept quietly to where Chris stood.
Chris' eyes had been jammed shut since Brent had entered. So Brent dropped to his knees and placed his hands on Chris' cock. Chris opened his eyes and smirked down at Brent. Before he could say anything, Brent swallowed Chris' cock down to the hilt. Chris moaned out loudly and thrust deep into Brent's throat. Brent had perfected the art of deep throat on Keith Tkachuk over the past two years. So he was able to concentrate on milking Osgood's massive dick without the interruption of gagging. Brent used his tongue expertly on Osgood's dick, making him whimper in pleasure. Brent neglected his own throbbing rod, and brought his hands to Osgood's rock hard ass. Brent simply caressed the granite mounds, savoring the feeling of hard flesh beneath his hands. Just as he slid a finger slowly down the crack, Chris screamed out and shot his load down Brent's throat. Brent eagerly swallowed all 11 shots Chris produced. As Chris' cock slipped from his mouth, Brent liked one last droplet of cum from the head. Chris pulled Brent to his feet, then drove his lips roughly onto Brent's. The two shared a passionate lip lock for minutes before the separated, gasping for breath.
"You're...fucking...amazing," Chris choked out, running his hands over Brent's ass.
"Thanks," Brent giggled as Osgood found the ticklish spot on his lower back. "I've had good people to practice on,"
"No doubt. I've had a few good ones myself. I'll have to show you. Let's say we get together later, what cabin you in?"
"Indio, Indigo, Idaho, some shit like that," Brent replied as the two separated.
"Okay," Chris laughed. "I'll look for you at eight,"
"I'll be there,"
The two shared one final kiss before Osgood fastened a towel around his waist and left the showers. Brent suddenly didn't feel like showering. He turned the water off, and grabbed his towel. He dried himself, then secured the towel around his waist. He snatched up his jeans from the floor and slung them over his shoulder. He exited the showers with a smile on his face, savoring the sweet taste of Osgood's cum as it continued to dance on his tongue.
Brent was much happier as he walked back to his cabin. He smiled and said hi to the other goalies as he passed them by. When he got to his cabin, Dan Cloutier had arrived and sat on Brent's bed reading a copy of Goalie's World. He glanced up at Brent and smiled nervously. Brent's cock twitched as he noticed Cloutier staring at his body. Brent knew now that Cloutier was his. All that remained now was the seduction, Brent's favorite part. He smiled brightly at Cloutier and extended his hand.
"Brent Johnson," He said as the two shook hands. "But everyone calls me Johnny,"
"Dan Cloutier. Everyone calls me Danny,"
"Nice to meet you, Danny," Brent stated as he sat down on the bed.
Brent didn't cross his legs, giving Cloutier a full view of his package. Naughty thoughts swam through Brent's mind as Cloutier shifted on the bed, his hands conveniently ending up in his lap. Brent felt his cock beginning to rise. He knew in only a matter of moments, he'd feel Cloutier inside of him.
"G...great series against Detroit," Cloutier stammered, fighting to make eye contact with Brent.
"Nah, you did way better than I did," Brent commented, getting to his feet. "Do you mind?" Brent asked, tucking his fingers under the towel still draped around his waist.
Cloutier shook his head no and watched intently as the towel dropped from Brent's waist. He began to salivate as Brent's semi-hard dick came into view. Brent looked at him and smiled, reminding Cloutier he was staring. He blushed a deep read, and crawled up the bed until his back rested against the headboard.
"I just got lucky and caught Hasek on an off day," Cloutier explained, referring to the Vancouver/Detroit series. "We sucked, really,"
Brent just smiled and sat next to Cloutier on the bed, still buck naked. Cloutier fidgeted nervously as Brent slid his hand slowly up his leg.
"Well then," Brent started, his hand reaching the buckle of Cloutier's jeans.
One handed, he undid them and slid them slowly down his legs. An evil grin came to Brent's face as he saw the tent formed in Cloutier's Scobby Doo boxer shorts. Brent slid a leg over Cloutier, straddling him at the knees. He reached behind Cloutier’s head and grabbed the bottle of lube.
"We've established that Vancouver sucks. "So now lets see how a canuck fucks,"
In an instant, Brent yanked down Cloutier's boxers, exposing 8 hard inched of dick. Brent quickly opened the bottle and poured some of it's contents onto Cloutier's dick, making him jump from the sudden cold. Brent took only seconds to rub it in before driving himself down on Cloutier's dick. Cloutier screamed out in pleasure. Brent was in utter ecstacy as he began to slowly ride Cloutier's dick. Brent reached down and ripped open Cloutier's shirt, exposing a beautiful hairless chest. As he continued to ride, Brent dove onto Cloutier's nipples. Cloutier lifted Brent's head from his chest, and pulled his lips to his.
Their kisses took off in a whirlwind of passion. The sounds of sex could be heard from all around. As their kisses separated, Cloutier grasped Brent's dick and began to jerk it in quick, short strokes. He was losing concentration as he felt his orgasm bubbling, but refused to release Brent's cock. As he reached climax, he squeezed tightly onto Brent's cock. Brent shot forth a massive load onto Cloutier's chest as he felt shot after shot of Cloutier's seed coat his insides.
Exhausted, Brent slowly slid from Cloutier's cock, and collapsed next to him on the bed. He licked his cum from Cloutier's chest, then lay back beside him. He grazed his fingers slowly across Cloutier's chest as he began to speak.
"That was spectacular,"
"Well, what can I say, I've had lots of practice since I became a Canuck,"
"Really? I'd love to hear all about that,"
"Well, Brendan Morrison...." Cloutier started as a knock came to the door.
A grin swept across Brent's face as he glanced over at the clock on the wall. Eight o'clock, it was Osgood.
"Who's that?" Cloutier asked as Brent hopped to his feet.
"Chris Osgood. He's come to swap stories. And techniques," Brent remarked coyly, winking at Cloutier.
As Brent walked to the door, he could only think of one thing. Goalie camp didn't turn out to be that bad, after all.
The End.
© 2002 Triple X
