“Of course, your wife doesn’t have to participate, Mr.
Biddle,” said Geoff Stanley. Geoff was the owner of
Stanley Farm Machinery, the small town’s biggest
business. He was a forceful and conservative gentleman
in his 50’s. His wife, Janis smiled loyally as he
continued. “But it would enhance your career and social
position in Beaver Hill a great deal. Everyone would be
grateful. Everyone who counts, that is.”

My own wife, Karina shifted in her seat and appeared
uncomfortable. However, I noticed that she hadn’t
dismissed Geoff’s outrageous suggestion out of hand, nor
had she gotten up to leave. Janis Stanley reached out
and touched Karina’s arm.

“And it would be very satisfying to know that you have
personally done your little bit to stop the scourge of
young male adult drug abuse and criminality in our small
town,” Janis smiled.

Karina nodded hesitantly. “And how often would this,
err “event” take place?” she inquired.

“Well, that all depends,” Geoff said. “If the Beaver
Hill Beavers run the table and go 9-0, well then you’d
be totally off the hook.”

“And Beaver Hill’s got a pretty darn good hockey team
this year. At least according to Geoff, who’s the
expert.” Janis added encouragingly. “Julie-Anne Cordell
on the other hand, now SHE’S got her hands full.”

“Well, maybe not her HANDS,” her husband quipped. Janis
elbowed him playfully.

“Julie-Anne represents Maple Sap Valley,” Janis
explained. “They’re always bottom of the table. Julie-
Anne will be walking pretty funny by the end of the
season, I would think.”

“Now think about it seriously, you two,” Geoff
admonished. “And remember: If you accept, there are
certain rules that affect Harvey too.”

My wife and I exchanged glances and got up to leave.
Geoff picked up the intercom and one of his office
flunkies hurried in with our coats. We got dressed and
walked out and across the parking lot to my Ford. We had
only moved to Beaver Hill 6 months before. I had been
offered a job as a senior loans office at the local bank
at a very decent increase in salary over my old job in
Toronto and Karina was looking for part-time employment
while taking care of our two children, Darren (10 years)
and Samantha (8).

While living in a small town was something of a culture
shock after life in a major city, we had come to
appreciate the fresh air, low prices and leisurely pace.
And of course, my uptick in salary was pretty welcome as
well. Then one day Mike Tobin, my branch manager had
suggested that he could tack on an extra ten thousand
dollar bonus at Christmas if Karina and I went to see
the Stanleys about some “community work”.

“We don’t want any big city social problems coming to
our nice, little town,” he said. “Some of the locally
prominent families started a junior men’s hockey league
to keep our future leaders off the streets and out of
trouble. And there’s a special incentive program to
ensure those young fellows stay committed to the league.
I think your wife would be perfect.”

“You know, honey, I’m still not sure about all this,”
Karina sighed as we got into the Ford. “And the fact
that it would all happen in the locker room right after
a game seems a little crude and indecent.”

I thought back to the rest of the meeting we had just
had with Geoff Stanley.

“I’ll cut right to the chase,” he’d said as he sat us
down. “When we started our young men’s hockey league
back in the ’60’s, we had more than a little difficulty
keeping the players interested. Back then, it was all
about being a hippie, doing drugs and playing rock
music. Some of the fellows were even talking about going
to art college in Toronto and becoming graphic
designers. Imagine that! So we had to come up with an
effective, real world solution. And by jingo, we did!”

“Of course, it was Geoff’s dad who was in charge back
then,” Janis added. “Geoff Senior.” She pointed to a
portrait photo of a gray-haired curmudgeon with a stony
jaw, clipped military moustache and a cold “none of your
bullshit!” glare.

“Dad licked the damn Germans in Normandy and he sure as
hell wasn’t going to let a bunch of guitar-playing
layabouts ruin Canada,” Geoff snorted. “He asked himself
what do young guys like even more than smoking drugs and
lazing around doing nothing?”

Karina and I shared a puzzled glance. Geoff answered his
own rhetorical question.

“Pussy!” he roared. “Pussy!”

“I wish you wouldn’t use that rude word, dear,” Janis
pleaded.

Geoff forged right ahead. “Dad discovered that if we
offered the players sex with an attractive older woman
each time they won a hockey match, he wouldn’t lack for
committed players. And indeed, he rapidly had a waiting
list of applicants for each of our ten teams. And
that’s where your wife comes into the picture.”

Janis smiled reassuringly at Karina. “The league
supplies the condoms and wet wipes, dear. And a generous
supply of sexual lubricant. And we’re very, very
discreet.”

I turned the ignition in the Ford and eased the car out
of the Stanley parking lot. It was easy to understand
why Geoff Stanley had made his unusual proposal. Karina
is a stunning blonde, the sort of tanned, tight, toned
MILF that horny young dudes dream of nailing. She’s been
an avid fitness and yoga buff since college and the fact
that she had recently enhanced her breasts to a firm,
well-projected 36DD made her all the more mouth-
watering.

“Harvey, we need all the help we can get in our new
town,” she mused, “and that ten thousand dollars would
come in handy for a RESP for the kids. Wisely invested,
it would practically pay their way through university.”

“But what about me?” I asked. “Geoff Stanley’s rules are
very specific that I can’t have sex with you during
hockey season.”

“We might have to take that in stride, I guess,” Karina
said. “After all, Mr. Stanley has a point. The less sex
I get from you, the more ready I’ll be for my community
work with the hockey league.”

I tried to hide my disappointment. In fact, Karina had
seemed less and less interested in having sex with me
since Samantha’s birth. Geoff Stanley’s rule would
simply make it official and less negotiable.

“Harvey,” Karina said, “let’s call Mr. Stanley as soon
as we get home and sign me up. It seems the right thing
to do. After all, when my dad once started a new job, he
and Mom had to learn to play bridge to please his boss.
This is pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?”

I shrugged and nodded, resigned to five months of no sex
with my attractive wife.

***

Karina’s decision quickly produced tangible results.
When I went into work at the bank the next day, I had a
brand new desk and chair, both antique and both very
expensive, sitting in my office. And Mike Tobin came in
to congratulate me with a wink.

“I predict great things for you, Biddle!” he proclaimed.
“And for your lovely wife too, of course!”

As I settled down for a morning of reviewing car loan
applications, Karina rang. “Geoff Stanley just phoned,”
she announced excitedly. “He’s invited us both to come
and see the opening game of the season for the youth
hockey league.”

“I thought that wasn’t till Friday.” I said puzzled.

“That’s Beaver Hill’s opening game,” Karina explained.
“Tonight’s game is between Maple Sap Valley and Pine
Knob Lake. Mr. Stanley told me that his wife would
introduce us to the couples who represent those teams:
the Cordells and the MacDillons.” She hesitated a
second, then continued. “He said that we can stop by the
winning team’s locker room afterwards to see the post-
game celebration.”

I caught my breath. I hadn’t quite yet fully focused on
the fact that a woman quite possibly my own gorgeous,
blonde wife would be semi-publicly group-fucked after
every game. Now it seemed we were being invited as
spectators at exactly that.

“Do we really want to do that, honey?” I asked.

“I know it will be a little unusual,” Karina said. “But
it’s probably just as well to learn the ins and outs of
what I might have to do ahead of time. And Janis Stanley
will be there to offer us some guidance and moral
support, if we need it.”

I reluctantly agreed. There seemed to be no option.

Karina continued. “We have to be at the Pine Knob rink
at seven sharp,” she said. “Why don’t you come home a
little early from work?”

***

Mike Tobin was more than willing to let me book off
early, although I was uncomfortable with the smug leer
he gave me as I packed up my briefcase to leave. When I
got home, Karina greeted me at the front door in a
terrycloth robe.

“I’ve parked Darren and Samantha with a babysitter for
the evening,” she explained. “Otherwise they might be a
little too curious.”

Karina let the robe slide down her bare shoulders and
shrugged it to the floor to reveal her big Barbie Doll
tits and furry, full blonde bush. I made an impulsive
grab at her ass.

“Uh-uh,” she scolded. “I promised the Stanleys that you
wouldn’t be getting any for the next few months. You’ll
just have to get used to seeing me naked and not doing
anything about it.”

“Honey,” I begged, “just this once! Please! My dick’s
the size of a telephone pole!”

“A telephone pole in Midget-land?” Karina laughed. In
fact, my penis is well below average size for my height
of 5’5″. This wasn’t the first time that Karina had been
less than impressed. “Oh,” she added, “Janis Stanley
sent me a package. It’s lying on the kitchen counter.”

I spotted three tiny thongs lying among a tatter of
wrapping paper. “Could you hand me one, please?” Karina
asked.

I gave her one of the slinky garments. All three were
identical, black with yellow trim and the Beaver Hill
Beavers logo on the front. She stepped into the panty
and pulled it all way up to her cleft. The thong was so
tight and small that is sank a little into her vulvar
groove and her pubic hair fluffed out around it at the
sides. Without my even noticing, my hand had dropped to
the front of my pants and started to pump and squeeze at
my erection.

“Please stop doing that, Harvey,” Karina said.

I self-consciously pulled my hand away. Karina adjusted
the thong, pulling it even more tautly into her furry
cunt.

“But why the panties?” I asked.

“It’s one of the rules,” Karina explained. “All the
wives wear them to the games. It demonstrates team
spirit.”

She selected a black lace bra and fastened it around her
chest. Tight blue jeans and a stretchy black top
followed. Karina primped her hair a little in the mirror
and smiled.

“I need you to help me with my coat, Harvey,” she said.
“We don’t want to be late for opening game.”

***

“Karina and Harvey, this is Julie-Ann Cordell and her
husband, Timothy,” Janis Stanley announced. The Pine
Knob arena was about half-full with spectators. A few of
them looked meaningfully in our direction and smirked.
While the Stanleys had promised discretion, it was
evident that the unusual “prize” awarded to the winning
team was an open secret in the community.

Julie-Ann Cordell was a stunning woman in her early
thirties with shoulder-length dark brunette hair. She
was about 5’4″ with a set of breast as firm and full as
Karina’s and just as fake, I suspected. She was
wearing a white cotton knit top tucked into a knee-
length, tight leather skirt.

“So pleased to meet both of you,” she smiled.

“I hope you’re ready for a brand new season,” Janis
said. “Maple Sap Valley always seems to lose far more
games than it wins. And we know what that means.”

Julie-Ann winced and blushed. Her husband smiled
blandly. He was a slightly-built man with a receding
hairline and a weak, wispy attempt at a goatee. A
prominent little paunch jutted out in front of his
skinny hips.

“I’m a free-lance journalist,” he volunteered. “I’m
pretty uncompromising in my views. I’m against almost
everything.”

Julie-Ann ignored him. She and Karina were already
making girl-talk about ear-rings and nail polish.

“Hi, everyone!” A tall woman in her late twenties with
light brown hair, blue eyes and cute freckles leaned in
on us. She was slender with a small, high rack and a
strikingly pretty face. A pudgy, older guy with a
patchy, grey mullet tagged along behind her.

“Oh my goodness!” Janis Stanley cried. “It’s the
MacDillons Larissa and Chip. They signed up to
represent Pine Knob Lake towards the end of last season
when Melissa Carpenter had to quit because of a yeast
infection.”

Larissa and Julie-Ann hugged. “I wore a skirt like you
suggested,” Larissa said. She turned towards Karina.
“Skirts are a lot easier to get on and off after the
game. In the locker room, I mean.” A tartan wool
miniskirt barely covered Larissa’s groin and ass. She
twirled to show off her elegant legs in black sheer
pantyhose.

I noticed Timothy Cordell staring intently at Larissa’s
little skirt. His hands were in his pants pockets and he
seemed to be covertly playing with his dick. Julie-Ann
glanced sharply at him and he took his hands out of his
pants and folded them on his chest.

“I have hot chocolate for everyone,” Janis Stanley said.
“I brought an extra thermos because Karina and Harvey
came along. And there are hot dogs and sticky buns at
the concession stand at the other end of the rink.”

***

By the third period, Pine Knob Lake was already leading
3-1. Julie-Ann looked resigned and Larissa MacDillon
looked relieved and a little guilty. Timothy Cordell on
the other hand almost bounced with barely restrained
anticipation. I caught Janis Stanley’s eye and she
leaned in to whisper.

“He likes to watch,” she said.

“His wife getting, err.. ?” I asked.

“More hot chocolate, Harvey?” Janis asked. She poured
without waiting for my assent. “I’m sure you’ll like
watching too,” she predicted.

I shook my head. “I’m not that type, Ms. Stanley,” I
said.

Janis Stanley appeared skeptical. “I’ve been doing this
for fifteen years, Harvey,” she said sharply, “and I
know a wanker when I see one. You’re a wanker. Maybe not
quite as bad as Timothy Cordell, but getting there.”

“At least your make-up won’t get ruined,” Larissa
MacDillon’s voice cut into our private conversation. She
was speaking to Julie-Ann Cordell.

Julie-Ann grimaced and turned to Karina. “If they get a
shut-out, the winning team’s goalie gets to shoot in
your face. Sometimes it even gets in your hair. Yuck!”

“Someone should explain the rules to the Biddles,” said
Larissa MacDillon.

“Well, the rules are pretty simple,” Janis Stanley said.
“The winning team’s captain always goes first.”

“Ouch!” said Larissa. Karina raised her eyebrows. “The
captain always seems to have the biggest you-know-what,”
Larissa explained.

“And the rest of the winning team goes in order,
depending on the number on their hockey sweaters,” Janis
Stanley explained. “The goal scorers don’t wear
condoms.”

“Because they got one past the goalie!” Larissa and
Julie-Ann chorused.

“Just be thankful there are only three goals on the
scoreboard, Julie-Ann,” Janis said. “Last season there
was a 15-3 blowout and you got pretty wet and sticky
after that one.”

“I had to spend five minutes wiping Julie-Ann off
afterwards,” Timothy Cordell offered. He tried to look
serious and outraged, but ended up giving a little
snicker. I also noticed that his hands had slipped back
into his pants.

The last minute of play warning was given. I saw the
Maple Sap Valley goalie dash to the bench for a sixth
attacker. There was a shot into the Pine Knob end of the
rink. It was followed by a badly coordinated and inept
flurry of activity as Maple Sap Valley rushed the Pine
Knob zone. The puck was flipped back out to centre-ice.
Maple Sap Valley tried another shoot and rush and time
ran out. Janis Stanley looked meaningfully over.

“Looks like you’re up to bat, Julie-Ann,” she said.

Julie-Ann stood up and smoothed down her tight leather
skirt. “Well, duty calls,” she said.

Timothy Cordell attempted to look infuriated. “When this
is all over, I intend to write and angry and passionate
article denouncing the way the rich force us decent,
ordinary people to humiliate ourselves,” he whispered to
me. His hand was clearly wanking his penis inside his
pants as we walked around the rink towards the winning
team’s dressing room.

***

There was a loud hooting and cheering from inside the
Pine Knob Lake Lakers’ dressing room as we walked down
the hallway to the door. Larissa MacDillon paused and
touched Julie-Ann Cordell’s arm.

“Good luck, Julie-Ann,” she smiled encouragingly.

“Thanks, Larissa,” Julie-Ann answered. “Maybe we can
catch up on the gossip over a latte next week.”

“I’d love to,” Larissa said. “Monday I’ll be having some
of the girls over. Chip will be working on his thesis.”

As the MacDillons turned to leave, the sound from the
Lakers’ locker room became more intense and rhythmic and
turned into a kind of crude chant. Karina and I strained
to hear what was being said. “Oh my god!” she said. “I
think I can make out what the players are shouting.
They’re chanting “pussy, pussy, pussy!” over and over
and over.”

“Oh, they always do that,” Janis Stanley said. “It’s a
local tradition. They’re just being boisterous. But
perhaps it’s best not to keep them waiting.” She knocked
on the locker room door. It swung open a few inches and
Mike Tobin’s face appeared. “Coach Tobin,” Janis asked,
“is it okay for us to come in?”

Mike smiled at Karina and then glanced briefly over at
me. “Harvey,” he said, “glad you and your lovely wife
actually made it over for our opening game.” He turned
to Janis Stanley. “You folks come right on in. And
Julie-Ann, it’s always a pleasure. The players have been
looking forward to meeting you again a great deal.”

Karina looked over at Janis Stanley. “Does Coach Tobin
actually, err. as well?” she asked.

“Oh my goodness, no!” Janis replied. “It’s just the
players. Mike Tobin hasn’t been a player in the hockey
league for over twenty years.”

We pushed through the door into the Pine Lake locker
room. As Julie-Ann Cordell entered, there was a grunting
cheer which echoed around the little space. About twenty
young men were lined up wearing only their hockey
sweaters. Their cocks stuck out aggressively above their
muscular thighs like purple-veined moon rockets.

Some of the players were stroking and squeezing their
dicks attentively, while others let them swing and wag
unhandled. They all appeared to be in their very late
teens or early twenties and all were hard and slender
and pulsating with barely controlled post-adolescent
male lust.

Julie-Ann walked over to the far end of the locker-room
where three or four benches had been parked side by side
and covered with several layers of towel. A plastic ice
bucket full of packaged condoms sat next to a jumbo size
box of wet wipes and a massive squirt bottle of
strawberry flavoured lube. She kicked off her boots and
reached back to unzip her tight leather skirt.

“Now, guys,” said Coach Tobin, “let’s hear it for the
Pine Knob Lake Lakers!”

“Pine Knob Lake! Pine Knob Lake! Pine Knob Lake!”
chanted the players. Julie-Ann dropped her skirt and
pulled her tight sweater over her thick dark hair. She
struggled with the stretchy sleeves for a few seconds,
her full breasts pushing out at her beige lace bra. Then
she fought free of the top and unhooked the bra to show
her firm, blunt-nippled DD-cup tits.

“Pine Knob Lake! Pine Knob Lake!” Less than half of the
players were chanting now. The rest were staring at
Julie-Ann Cordell and almost all of them were touching
and pulling their dicks. She peeled down her pantyhose
and pulled at a tiny blue and orange thong.

“We sell the panties afterwards to raise money for
charity,” Janis Stanley whispered.

“Really? I hadn’t known that,” Karina responded. Her
voice was slightly hoarse. I saw her glance down the
line of thick, hard cocks and then hastily look away and
focus nervously on a patch of ceiling.

Julie-Ann kicked free of her nylons and knelt on the
benches, her ass shoved out towards the line of men and
her thighs apart, exposing her shaved pudendum with its
thin pink inner line and tiny moist convulvular vortex.

“That’s the team captain, Clark MacHusky,” Janis Stanley
indicated the brawny, crew-cut jock at the head of the
line of young men. A snake tattoo slithered across his
taut abdominal muscles and shaved pubis to flicker its
tongue at the thick trunk of a throbbing cock at least
ten inches long.

“Clarke is one of our most successful reclamation
projects. Three years ago, he was arrested smoking
hashish and spray painting graffiti on the outside walls
of our local Wal-Mart. He’s a good example of what our
hockey league can accomplish, given time and dedicated
volunteers.”

MacHusky strode across the locker room and positioned
himself directly behind Julie-Ann Cordell’s vulnerable
cunt, his thighs slightly spread apart and his ass
muscles clenched. He tore open a condom package and
pulled out the grey rubber oyster inside.

“We always stock up on Magnums,” Janis Stanley observed.
“Most of our players are well above average in size.”

Even a Magnum struggled to encompass Clark MacHusky’s
massive and bulbous dick-head and the ample
circumference of his shaft. He grimaced as he stretched
the condom around his big cock and pulled the rubber
down his length. The elastic-y sheath snapped tight as
he let it go, his phallus still only partly covered.

MacHusky squirted a massive glob of strawberry lube onto
his hand and then slathered it abundantly along the
length of his cock. Then with one fluid motion, he half-
stepped forward and thrust his member into Julie-Ann
Cordell’s exposed womanhood. The force of his
penetration pushed her hips and ass two or three inches
into the air. Julie-Ann stifled a little shriek.

“Is she going to be okay?” Karina asked.

Janis Stanley shrugged nonchalantly. “I’ve seen Julie-
Ann take far bigger than that,” she said. “I think
she’ll do just fine. You’ll see what I mean.”

Julie-Ann started to gasp and sigh in rhythm with
MacHusky’s forceful pounding, pushing back a little with
her hips each time. His lips curled back over his teeth
and he grunted and gasped as he fucked her. MacHusky
grabbed and lifted Julie-Ann’s hips and pulled her
crotch back against his groin for one final, deep
convulsive thrust as he shot his load into the Magnum.

“That’s good work, Pine Knob Lake!” Mike Tobin cheered.
MacHusky withdrew from Julie-Ann’s interior, his huge
dick already softening inside the glistening wet condom.
Another man stepped forward. He had “surfer dude” good
looks with shoulder length blond hair and a trimmed
beard.

“That’s Joe Kimber,” Janis Stanley advised us. “He won
the league’s best defence man award last year.”

Karina tugged on a condom and inserted his big cock into
Julie-Ann’s vagina. As he pumped, she began to gasp and
sigh again. I noticed that her right hand had slid back
between her legs and had started to squeeze and stroke
Joe Kimber’s hairy balls.

Timothy Cordell stared at his wife’s sexual encounter,
his hands clearly playing pocket pool inside his pants.
“You folks don’t mind if I start masturbating, do you?”
he said to no one in particular. To my astonishment,
Timothy unzipped his pants and produced a tiny penis,
about three inches long. He started to pump it with two
fingers of his right hand while watching his well-fucked
wife.

Janis Stanley looked over at Karina with an “I told you
so” raise of her eyebrows. Karina blushed and glanced
away. After a few seconds, Timothy Cordell shot a few
tiny drops of thin, weak, clear cum over the floor a
foot or so in front of him.

“Holy shit!” he groaned. “That was intense!” He wiped
his damp fingers off against his shirt, leaving a wet,
grey streak.

Joe Kimber had put his left leg up on the bench to get
more leverage and was fucking hard now. His head was
thrown back and he was making soft hooting noises as he
fought to shoot his load. Below him, Julie-Ann was
squeezing his balls and grinding back her hips.
Suddenly, Joe Kimber screamed and inhaled, contracting
his muscular gut in a sharp orgasmic spasm.

“Way to go, Joey!” one of the line of players shouted.
There was a scattering of cheers from the others as
Kimber pulled his cock out.

“Thanks, guys!” Kimber smiled. “Oh man! Didn’t think I’d
get there that time!”

A hard-body, young Black guy stepped forward. He had a
shaven skull and pierced nipples. As he took his
position behind Julie-Ann Cordell, he lubed up his thick
erection without first rolling on a sheath.

“That’s Jamal Nilkins,” Janis Stanley said. “He’s one of
the goal scorers, so he doesn’t use a condom.”

“I just hope my lovely wife took her birth control this
morning,” Timothy Cordell snickered. He glanced around
to see if anyone else was laughing, his tiny dick still
hanging limply out his fly.

Jamal Nilkins penetrated Julie-Ann and started to thrust
slowly in and out of her. She began to breathe heavily
and moan. I noticed that her eyes were now wide open and
looking into the big locker room mirror to watch Jamal
Nilkins mount and take her. His eyes met hers in the
mirror and they locked stares as he fucked her harder
and deeper. Julie-Ann’s fingers circled and rubbed her
clit in cadence to his thrusts.

Nilkins climaxed with a groan and stepped back. One
final after shot of semen exploded from his cock,
soaking her ass in a copious glaze. The rest of Jamal
Nilkins’ load began to trickle slowly out of Julie-Ann
Cordell’s pussy in a thick, slow crme.

“Harvey, do you have an erection?” Karina was studying
the bulge in the front of my pants. There was little I
could say to deny it. “Janis Stanley was dead right,”
Karina added. “You ARE a wanker.”

“Go for it, buddy!” Timothy Cordell applauded. “I’m
about ready for my second shot. Well, actually my
third. I already came once in my shorts walking over
here.”

Karina and Janis Stanley exchanged knowing glances. I
hesitated a few seconds and then slowly unzipped the fly
of my pants.

Another guy had positioned himself behind Julie-Ann’s
ass and was pulling on a sheath. He was baby-faced and
not as muscular as the others and appeared to be only
about eighteen years old.

Karina whispered to Janis Stanley “I don’t even think he
needs lube.”

“Not after the lube job Jamal Nilkins gave her,” Janis
replied. Both women watched intently as the baby-faced
young guy penetrated Julie-Ann and started to grind and
thrust. In fact, neither seemed to notice as I took out
my own small, rigid dick.

“I don’t think she can last more than two more guys
before she gets herself off,” Karina observed.

“Most of our wives orgasm two or three times each
occasion they work,” Janis replied. “Julie-Ann Cordell
is especially sensitive. If memory serves, she came at
least four times when Maple Sap Valley lost to the Foam
Creek Badgers.”

The young guy was already pounding hard and moaning and
appeared more than ready to cum. Underneath him, Julie-
Ann was pushing back harder than before and gasping
hoarsely. Suddenly, she screamed and bucked. It only
took another instant before the teenaged guy moaned and
bit his lip, his cheeks flushed and crimson. He pulled
out and cradled his spent and aching dick with both
hands. A red-haired man with a shaggy beard slapped the
youngster on the back and took his place.

“Are they going to give her a few minutes to, err
rest?” Karina asked Janis Stanley. “I’m sure she’s
quite, err. exhausted.”

“Heavens, no!” Janis Stanley replied. “There’s still
quite a lot of work for her to do. Although I suppose it
is a shame that Red Angus MacPherson is the next man up.
MacPherson has a genital piercing called a Prince
Albert. That’s always a little more stimulating for a
woman, even when she is as you say “exhausted” ”

MacPherson forced a condom tightly over the metal stud
in his dick-head and entered Julie-Ann Cordell. She
yelped and squirmed as he penetrated deep inside her,
but adjusted quickly to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Timothy Cordell forced himself to look away from his
wife. “Buddy?!” he addressed me, “Did you just shoot?!
You nailed my pants leg!”

Again, there was little I could say in my own defence.

***

“How are you doing, Julie-Ann?” Karina asked. It was
nippy in the evening winter air outside the arena.

Julie-Ann smiled sheepishly. “A little sore, I guess,”
she said.

Janis Stanley smiled reassuringly. “A nice warm cup of
cocoa and a Timmy’s donut should make you good as new.
You did very well in there tonight.”

“Thanks, Janis,” Julie-Ann said.

“I’m pretty sore as well,” Timothy Cordell added. “But I
guess I’m not going to get any sympathy for my
problems.”

***

There was an awkward silence as I drove Karina home. I
kept our Ford at my accustomed 2.5 kilometres below the
posted speed limit as we travelled down the stretch of
highway and over the bridge north of Foam Creek and
headed east past Maple Sap Valley and south towards Big
Dingle. As the minutes passed, I wracked my brains. I
had a lot on my mind, but just how to say it eluded me.
Karina appeared lost in her own thoughts, her face
silent and withdrawn. Just before the 7-11 outside
Beaver Hill, I pulled the Ford over onto the shoulder
and took a deep breath.

“Karina,” I began, “I know that it’s important to serve
the community. And the extra money that Mike Tobin
promised us as a Xmas bonus, well that’s pretty
important too. And I know that getting ahead and doing
well in our new town is a key goal in our lives as it
should be. But there’s something that might be even more
important and that’s our Dignity.

“I realize that perhaps this is not the best time for me
to talk about Dignity, as I masturbated while watching
Julie-Ann Cordell being mounted by the entire Pine Knob
Lake hockey team and I ejaculated on Timothy Cordell’s
pants, but I guess I have to take the bull by the horn
or something like that regardless of the
circumstances.”

Karina was looking at me now, intently and quietly, her
eyes locked on mine. I continued,

“So what I mean to say is: Perhaps we should phone Geoff
Stanley and tell him that we respectfully decline the
opportunity that he has so thoughtfully extended to you,
err, us and that he will simply have to find someone
else to sexually satisfy the players in the hockey
league in their locker rooms after games.”

Karina reached out to take my hand in hers. She squeezed
it gently and her eyes clouded with tears. She smiled a
sweet, wistful half-smile and then blinked her eyes
clear.

“Harvey,” she said softly, “what you’ve just said.” she
sighed deeply and then started afresh. “Harvey, what
you’ve just said is perhaps the most selfish, narrow-
minded thing that I have ever heard anyone say.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell
phone. “Two hours ago,” she continued, “I got a text
message from Judge Sneeble himself.” She showed me the
phone. “Judge Sneeble told me that Beaver Hill is about
to be overwhelmed by a massive crime wave and an illicit
drug epidemic of major proportions. It’s up to us
socially responsible people to do what we can to uphold
Canadian values in these challenging times of crisis.”

She withdrew her hand. “Harvey,” she added, “we’ll just
have to do our best, me by sexually pleasing the players
in the junior men’s hockey league and you by watching me
and masturbating.”

As Karina finished speaking, a car rushed past us,
clearly exceeding the speed limit and one of its
occupants tossed out a bag of litter. Karina was
absolutely right. Beaver Hill was threatened with crime
everywhere we looked. It was up to the law-abiding
individual to take a stand even if that stand was
actually on all fours.

“Harvey, it’s getting late,” Karina said. “We should go
home.”

“Sure, honey,” I replied. I took my foot off the brake
pedal and eased the Ford back onto the highway.

“And Harvey,” Karina added, “I think it’s best you sleep
in the guest bedroom from now on. What happened in the
locker room tonight. You have so little self-
restraint.”

I nodded. Once again, there was very little I could say.