Chris & Tripp -- The Harvard Days (Part 1)

“Alright boys, wrap it up!,” Chris cupped his hand and yelled, as he skated towards The Crimson’s new goalie, spread-eagled and sweating down on the ice.
Matty had his mask pushed up on top of his blond, disheveled hair. He looked adorably up at his captain with his huge baby blues and flashed a dimpled smile when Chris braked and sent a mini blizzard of ice all over his pads.

Chris smiled back, his eyes sparkling under the low lighting of the rink. They were a gorgeous color, light brown with flecks of green in them. They reminded Matty of the moss he saw on rocks when he hiked in the summer. “You were red hot out there tonight!,” Chris exclaimed, tossing his damp head of chocolate curls to get his hair out of his eyes. “I’m impressed.”

Matty felt his face flush under his gorgeous coach’s playful gaze. Chris was undoubtedly Abercrombie & Fitch model gorgeous, and so was one of the alternate captains, Tripp, who was skating his way over the (now empty) ice to join them.
This sucked! Matty was a straight, shit-talking boy from Manitoba, Canada, and he wasn’t supposed to get goose bumps from other guys. He gave them black eyes! Especially when they invaded his crease. (For those who don’t watch hockey, that’s the area encased within blue lines right in front of the net, which the goalie protects.)

Tripp added some more flakes of ice to the ones Chris snowed over his pads when he stopped. They were large fellas, around 6’3, 225 lbs. without all the padding. Matty often thought to himself, “Shit, I wouldn’t want to be checked by either of them!,” when they sent bodies flying through the air during games. He only played a handful so far this season, being back-up to Jay Donovan, who was a senior; but, he still watched from the bench every night.
Tripp flashed his mischievous, killer grin at Matty, then began chewing on his lower lip. It was kind of hot, but Tripp was a little devil and he was probably trying to be.

He knew this, because he overheard him say something naughty to Chris in the lockeroom once. He whispered in his ear, “I wanna tap that ass later! Tell MaryBeth to go play with her friends.” Matt’s eyes popped out. He wanted to believe that Tripp was kidding, but the way he was staring at Chris’ ass in his tight, Polo boxer briefs....After he told himself he was being ridiculous about it, Tripp gave Chris’ ass a nice, juicy slap. Chris moaned and whispered back, “Watch it! The freshman’s still here.”
Goalie gear was a bitch to get out of, so of course Matty was still there! The two of them looked at him and smiled. Tripp started to chew on his knuckle and Matt felt his cock stir in his cup. He flushed and looked away, heart pounding.

“Great going Matty! I think Crawford’s gonna start you next game.,” Tripp said, resting his arm on Chris’ shoulder.
Tripp had piercing blue eyes, a little squinty, which made him look snobby if he wasn’t smiling. His hair was brown and straight, and streaked with artificial blond. Girls drooled over him. Same thing with Chris. They were total pretty boys. Maybe that’s why a straight guy like Matty liked to look at them? God, he hoped there was a logical explanation -- other than he was bisexual!
“Yeah? That rocks!,” Matty said, feeling like an ass after he said it. He was too nervous to come up with anything better.
They giggled good-naturedly at his reply, not seeming to care.

“Hey, I’d like to take some shots at you!,” Chris said to him. “If you have no objections of course. You know,...maybe warm you up a little bit for tomorrow night...”
Matty’s heart began to pound when Chris wet his lips and some of the innocence was gone from his smile. Tripp, who was chewing gum, began to move it around his mouth with his tongue.
Matty was definitely questioning their motives, but he was intrigued. He felt some pre-cum ooze out of the tip of his cock and trickle down the tight spandex he wore underneath his pads.

‘Fine! Go for it!” He was surprised at the confidence that seemed to come out of nowhere, as he got to his feet and pulled his mask back down. “I betcha neither of you gets more than two past me the next half hour!”
Wicked laughter erupted from Chris, who skated right up and got in his face. They were a decent match size-wise, but Chris outweighed him by maybe thirty pounds. Matty was still growing into his body at only 18 and 5 months of age.
“Oh yeah?,” Chris said, taunting him. “What are you willing to, ummm,...put over the bench?...”
Matty challenged him, even though it seemed these two gorgeous stallions were hoping to mount his virgin ass after the showers, if they won.
“I’m not following. What do you mean?,” he asked, locking eyes with his feisty captain.
Chris answered with a question. “Is this a new glove?” He grabbed Matty’s arm and began tugging on the leather puck catcher.
“Yeah.” Matty answered quietly.

Chris shoved his fist into the cushy center of it and pressed hard, making him catch his breath. By now, Tripp was watching intently, stretching his gum through his teeth with his fingers.
“Mmmmm...,” Chris purred. “Its nice and tight!...I guess what I want,...and I’ll speak on Tyler’s behalf too...Is to moisten this baby up later and stretch it out a little...”
Matty’s lips were parted and his eyes were transfixed on Chris’, aching in his loins to hear more...
“Think you’d...” he closed Matty’s glove hand around his fist and squeezed really hard as he pushed. “...be willing to let us take a few slap shots at your tight little glove?...”
Matty laughed uncomfortably. “You wanna fuck my ass?”
Tripp interjected, like a wise ass, “Bra-vo, Einstein!”
Seeing that the sweet little freshman didn’t seem fazed, gave Chris a painful woody. Matty took his goalie stick and shoved him away from the net. “Sorry, VonBlue! Get the fuck out of my crease!,” he spat, his grin charged with testosterone. “Two shots or less, and Janik fucks your ass while I watch!”
Tripp burst into whoops of boyish laughter. “ Man, you Canucks drive a hard bargain! I’ll fuck Chris ‘til he creams all over the shower walls -- twice...” He turned to Chris and caressed his cheek with the back of a gloved hand. “Won’t I sweetness?” He said that with such tenderness and Matty began getting hard.
“Uh-huh.” Chris moaned, meeting Tripp’s tongue for an erotic, open mouth kiss. Tripp had his tongue pierced and Matty got hotter thinking of places the ball in his tongue probably ticked Chris to orgasm...

They kissed in front of Matty for what seemed like an eternity. Matty certainly didn’t mind. They were obviously lovers.
He grew restless. “Whoaaaa!...Holy shit!,” he muttered, as he looked on in a trance. He wanted to join their kissing, it was getting harder to fight off his bicuriosity, so he needed to get the ball rolling. He could walk out of the lockeroom with his ass cherry still intact, jerking off to some hot sex between the two hottest guys at Harvard, or call it off completely!
“Ok! Let’s go boys! I can taste my victory!,” Matty said with confidence, taking his stance. At this point he didn’t know his fate, but his jock was sticking to him like a fruit roll-up from all his sticky love juice, and he was going to have to blow his load one way or another.
Chris licked some of Tripp’s saliva from his bottom lip. “You’ll be tasting a lot more than that if we score three...And so will we...” He checked out Matty’s ass as he said it.

After only ten minutes of reining slap shots, Chris fired one like a cannon over Matty’s lightning fast glove. He wasn’t sharp enough to stop goal number 3. Now he was shaking. Knowing that Chris and Tyler (Tripp’s real name) were a record-breaking forward and defenseman for the Crimson, he should have known better! Now, it was time to keep his end of the bargain.
Chris locked up the rink and turned off all of the outside lights, while Matty and Tyler entered the lockeroom.
“You’re shaking!” Tripp whispered almost empathetically as they began undressing, covered in salty sweat. Matty’s eyes went to his pierced right nipple, then to the piercing he had through his almost completely hairless navel. He had washboard abs and bulging forearms that flexed as he wiped himself with his sweat-soaked t-shirt. Though hockey players tended to stink from all their sweat mixed with water and absorbed into their protective pads, the scent of Tripp’s sweat was making his cock strain against his cup to the point of being painful. Tripp smiled at the nervous freshman with a devilish gleam in his ice blue eyes.
Chris came in and locked the door that led out to the ice behind him. Nobody would be getting in here -- and apparently out of here -- unless Chris let them.
Matty was scared. He heard himself say in his head, ‘Chris, I want to leave! If you don’t let me, I’m telling coach Rogers!,’ but instead spoke up, “What is this, some kind of freshman ritual?”
When he looked up, Chris and Tripp were tongue kissing and fondling each other’s smooth, hard cocks. They were both completely naked and beginning to moan quietly. Their hands sliding up each other’s shafts were making wet, sloshing sounds from the milky pre-cum they were working out of each other. Their hands were soaked and shiny.

He wanted to say something else, but could only stare. They seemed to have forgotten about him, as Tripp pulled a string of Chris’ love juice up to their mouths on his finger and they both seductively licked it off. “Mmmm...Taste your sugar, baby!...Yeah...You’re making me so fucking hot...,” Tripp moaned through the kiss.