Story: Hockey Showers, Swedish Style

cocktailweenie

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Hockey Showers, Swedish Style

At an international junior hockey tournament last year for 18 year olds our team got to play in various cities in Scandinavian countries. It was a great opportunity to show our skills to NHL scouts and see a bit of Europe. But in the second to last game of the tournament something very unusual happened which opened our eyes to different cultural practices. The Canada vs. Sweden game was a fairly routine affair: dirty tactics like spearing with the stick and elbowing to the face happened regularly throughout. In fact, some dickhead speared me in the third period but I took it like a man, instead of writhing on the ice like those chicken Swedes. The problem is that international hockey does not allow fighting so players take out their frustrations in these other more dangerous ways.

We won 3 to 2 and after the game our team went to the locker room to unwind, shower and change. My best friend on the team was Dave Wallace, and he had his locker next to mine. We stripped out of our equipment and were the first ones in the shower room. The first thing we noticed about this room was its enormous size: at least 15 shower heads facing each other in a large rectangular room. As we were walking to a space about halfway down the far wall some dude approached from the other end of the shower room. He was completely naked but I still recognized him as one of the defencemen from the Swedish team. What was he doing in our shower room, I thought? Then the guy says to Dave and me, motioning with a hand:

“Canada players use other wall.”

What the hell is he talking about, I thought? Then I noticed other naked Swedish players enter the shower room from their locker room. Dave was the first to figure it out and says to me:

“Brad, I think both teams are supposed to use the same shower room.”

I was flabbergasted. I had never heard of such a thing. Both teams use the same shower room! Dave and I just stood there while scowling Swedish players began to form a semi-circle around us. We were forced to beat a retreat to “our” side of the room, where our own players were starting to gather. We just stared dumbfounded at the Swedish players who had started to soap themselves up. Team captain Trevor Smith just said to us “Look guys, when in Rome…” So we began to fall into line by picking spots and turning on the water. I resented the Swedes’ presence because we could not celebrate our victory the usual way by shouting and laughing in the shower, as victors should. We had to be quiet and act like we were the LOSERS. Well, I thought, at least we would have a good story to tell our girlfriends; it seems the girls liked to hear shower room stories more than our exploits on the ice.

I couldn’t resist looking at the naked Swedes. The first thing I noticed was that all the guys who were facing outwards from the wall were uncircumcised. And when the others would turn around they were revealed as skinheads too. The whole team was uncut! On our team only Foster the goaltender was uncut. Pretty soon one of the Swedes noticed all the bare knobs on the Canadian team and started jabbering away in his language and pointing at our cocks; then a group of them started pointing and laughing too. Some even made make-believe scissors with their hands and simulated a clipping motion with the fingers. I couldn’t stand it! Imagine teasing US about not having our foreskins when it was THEM who should be squirming. All through high school it was the uncut minority who were made to feel the sting of the righteous mockery provoked by that excess baggage.

I decided some retaliation was in order: “Hey, guys” I said “do this to those fuckheads.” I proceeded to turn around, bend over, and give the Swedes a special moon by spreading my butt cheeks apart. Then all the other players turned around and did the same, giving the Swedes an excellent view of 18 hairy Canadian buttholes. We straightened up and turned around to see the shocked expressions on their faces! An excellent jest!

When the Swedes had recovered their equilibrium one of them separated from the rest and approached me near the invisible line separating the two teams. It took me a few seconds but then I recognized him as the prick that speared me late in the game. He called to his teammates:

“Look at Canadian’s ribs, ha ha.” He pointed at my ribs where a prominent red welt from his stick end could still be seen. Many Swedish players joined in the laughter. Then he proceeded to finger his long uncut cock while saying something in Swedish which provoked more laughter. A teammate translated for our benefit:

“He say look at Canadian hockey player’s small cock.”

It was true, my cock is on the small side, hanging down about three inches (after a good tug); my girlfriend likens it to a Lifesavers roll. I was stunned because the bastard had violated Rule #1 in shower room etiquette: no derogatory remarks are to be made about any guy’s dick size. I wanted to punch the Swede but realized it would be very awkward because we were all naked! It was as simple as that.

Soon our showers were completed and the water turned off but neither team wanted to leave. We just glowered at each other. There was an atmosphere of unfinished business. I guessed it all boiled down to the question of which team had the biggest dicks. One of the Swedes caught the mood and stepped forward towards the Canadian side and started to swing one of the longest cocks I had ever seen. He twirled it around like it was a propeller while his teammates cheered him on. I swear I thought I could actually feel the breeze created by that monster! Captain Smith immediately called upon Scott Bellows to match this guy. But although Scott had the biggest dick on our team he seemed shy about his gift. In fact, he was one of the minority to wear a towel to and from the shower room. The girls loved to make him blush by innocently asking about the inevitable nicknames he picked up – “Why do they call you snake, Scott?” – that sort of thing.

“Aw guys, I don’t want to, get somebody else” he pleaded.

“There is no one else, Scott. Look at that guy” said our captain. Scott had no choice and he was also forced to imitate a propeller. The two players faced each other twirling their dicks at each other separated by only about two feet. I think the Swede’s was longer but Scott’s was thicker. At one point the Swede stopped twirling it and flung it at Scott’s cock like a whip. Scott backed off to avoid being hit, which demoralized the Canadians.

Something had to be done to put the Swedes in their place. I suggested a single combat jerk off contest: their guy against ours. The Swedes immediately agreed and their captain stepped forward, a tall arrogant blond guy with a long thin cock. I intervened with our captain before he could step forward to take up the honor of our country.

“Let’s get Carter, I’m sure he’ll cum quickly” I told Trevor.
 
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