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To: [email protected]

Date: October 8, 2015

Subject: Penny for Your Thoughts

Hi Gerard!

I’m beyond thrilled you enjoyed my last post! Your hockey butt truly is a sight to behold. I mean, the way it fills out those sweats you always wear…I’m getting hot and bothered thinking about it.

Thank you for being such a good sport about it all, too. I know some guys might get their jockstraps in a twist, but not you. You’re the real MVP.

This brings me to my next stroke of genius. I’m thinking of calling my next blog post “Gerard Gunnarson’s Hands: A Study in Masculinity.” Because those big mitts of yours are begging to be analyzed.

What do you say, hot shot? Are you ready to have your palms read?

Until next time.

Ice Queen skating off!

11

GERARD

Ican’t speak for all guys, but I know that whenever I’m bored out of my mind, I jerk off.

Due to the excessive rain we’ve been having lately, classes have been canceled for the day. The puddles all over campus have turned into lakes, and the only ones who can get to class are the rowing and swim teams.

Some of the guys have been up since dawn playingNHL 16in the living room, but I’m not in the mood. We have practice later today, and I’d rather playrealhockey thanvirtualhockey.

I toss the covers down to my feet and spread my bare legs wide. I’m wearing nothing—not even underwear—because my body temperature is as hot as an oven. Has been ever since I started puberty. If I wear clothes to bed, I sweat more than a pig in a sauna.

It’s a Gunnarson trait. My father suffers the same fate. My male cousins, too. Sleepovers were interesting growing up, to say the least. At least we’re all athletes. Nothing none of us hadn’t seen before.

I grab the bottle of lube from under my bed, squirt a dollop into my hand and go to town on my dick. I prefer to take my timewhenever I jerk off. Some guys rush through it, trying to set a new world record, but not me. Sometimes, I’ll watch porn, but today, it’s me and my imagination.

Pretty Susie, a girl I dated back in high school, is bringing me down to the basement at her parents’ house. She’s wearing a red dress, the same one she wore to homecoming, and my hands are all over her. Her tiny hand wraps itself around mine and drags my finger up her leg to?—

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I scowl. While it could be something important that requires my immediate attention—maybe Coach is canceling practice or one of the guys needs a ride somewhere—I’m in the middle of making love to my fist.

Letting go of my throbbing and angry dick, I wipe my hand on a tissue before grabbing my phone. I tap the screen and see that I have an email from the Ice Queen. I read it several times to be sure I understand it correctly.

She wants to write a blog post about my hands.That’s a new one.I’ve never thought of my hands as particularly sexy before. I mean, they’re hands. Do people even have hand fetishes? Is that a real thing?

My hands are massive, easily twice the size of most guys’. My fingers are thick and long, and the knuckles are dusted with fine blond hair—I’ve broken a few of them over the years, but you’d never know it now. My nails are short and neatly trimmed, a habit drilled into me by countless coaches over the years.

“Long nails and hockey gloves don’t mix,” they always said. Truer words have never been spoken.

I turn my hand over and study the lines etched into my palm. I wonder what a palm reader would make of them. Would they see a long life line? Success and fame in my future?

With a shrug, I reply to the Ice Queen’s email with one hand as the other goes back to stroking my dick.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: October 8, 2015

Subject: RE: Penny for Your Thoughts