“Ovechkin’s Hockey Fuck”

by J.D. Savanyu

It was a lukewarm April night in Sin City, but the action was hot on the ice. Left winger Alex Ovechkin shot the puck real hard, and scored a game-winning goal for the Washington Capitals against the Vegas Golden Knights. He went totally insane (even by his wild Russian party boy standards.) So did his teammates, and everyone else in the arena, because he just broke Wayne Gretzky’s all-time scoring record. 895.

“Черт возьми, Ови! Я знал, что ты сможешь это сделать, ты, русская машина!” Center Evgeny Kuznetsov roared to Alex in his native Russian. (Fuck yeah, Ovie! I knew you could do it, you Russian machine!)

“Ууууу! Чертовски правильно, сучки! Все эти ненавистники могут сосать мой член!” (Woooo! Fucking right, bitches! All those haters can suck my dick!) “I’m gonna tear up this crazy fucking town!” he added in english.

“We’re gonna tear it up with you, boy!” replied right winger Conor Sheary.

And they sure did. After a raucous celebration with rock music in the dressing room, six Washington Capitals hit the Vegas Strip in a stretch limo, sipping vodka from a mini-fridge while gazing out at ridiculous $2 billion casinos. Alex stood up and poked his head through a moonroof. The lukewarm breeze ruffled his graying brown hair.

“Wooooo! I’m king of the wooooooorld!” he shouted like Leo DiCaprio with arms outstretched.

“Yeah, boy, everyone knows you’re the G.O.A.T.,” goalie Darcy Kuemper replied sarcastically. “The Greatest of All Trash Talkers.”

“And the Greatest of All Time,” Alex chuckled. “I put my stick where my mouth is. Let’s hit the Luxor and party like I won the fucking Powerball.”

The limo pulled up to a giant black casino modeled after the Great Pyramid of Giza. The hockey dudes hit the gaming floor with more cocktails. Getting nicely buzzed in a gambling mecca, six years after drinking champagne from the Stanley Cup in that vice-fueled desert oasis.

“That roulette wheel is calling my name,” Alex proclaimed. “And that blonde working the table is hotter than Sasha Vyalitsyna.”

“Who the hell is Sasha Viva-liva-whatever?“ asked left winger Marcus Johansson.

“A Russian supermodel I fucked a few years ago.”

Ovechkin went up to that golden-haired dealer, pulled out a bunch of casino chips, and read her nametag.

“Hey, Fantasia M. Ya know who I am?”

“Alexander Ovechkin!” Fantasia replied sweetly. She pronounced his name the proper Russian way: Al-eck-zan-der Oh-vee-etch-kin.

“That’s right, honey. And it’s a really special night for me. I just broke Wayne Gretzky’s all-time scoring record.”

“Wow, congratulations!” Fantasia beamed.

“Da, da, da, blondie.” He gave her a sexy wink and placed the chips on the green felt table. “Here’s ninenty-nine dollars on number nine. Because I’m better than #99.” (Gretzky’s old jersey number.)

She set the roullete wheel in motion and dropped a white marble down a slot to the wheel. It spun round and round and round, finally stopping on number nine.

“Woooo! Fuck yeaaaaah! Русские короли рулетки.” (Russians are the kings of roulette.)

“Wow, that language sounds so sexy,” Fantasia giggled while sliding over his winnings.

“Fuck French, Russian is the real language of love. Hey, wanna party with us in my room tonight?”

“Why the hell not? I’m a party girl who loves hockey.”

He gave her the number of his penthouse suite, and she promised to show up at midnight. The evening wore on, with more gambling and more liquor consumed by the Capitals. They cat-called some random Vegas hotties; partying like a bunch of sleazy senators. Alex wanted to repeat his “viral” Stanley Cup celebration stunt from 2018, so they went outside and danced in a giant water fountain with ancient Egyptian statues, getting soaked and cheering like hell.

“I am the greatest! I’m king of the world!” Alex shouted like Muhammad Ali, with dozens of tourists recording the scene on their phones. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a slap shot!”

They went back into the Luxor and got in an elevator. It moved diagonally along an interior wall of the hollow pyramid, taking them all the way up to the 28^th floor. They walked down an open hallway, peering over a railing at the distant gaming floor and the Karnak Steakhouse. Alex felt like a pharoah, completing his long journey toward glorious immortality.

Six Caps entered a big penthouse suite and took off their wet clothes. The Vegas skyline gleamed through a sloping glass wall in the penthouse suite. They kept the party going with more vodka and classic rock, dancing butt-naked to the sick guitar solo of “Sweet Child o’Mine.” Too drunk to care about decency, but not shit-faced drunk. Someone knocked on the front door, and Ovie looked through the peephole, beholding the radiant golden beauty of Fantasia, flanked by two brunette bombshells in matching casino employee uniforms. He opened the door, and their faces lit up at the sight of all those ripped hockey hunks in their birthday suits. Her companions had nametags that read “Jane A.” and “Jane G.”

“Hey Tom,” Fantasia beamed. “Mind if I bring a couple friends to your nudist party?”

He grinned from ear to ear at their awesome d-cups. “No problem! The more the merrier.”

Fantasia and her friends sauntered into the big room and got naked as fuck, draping their uniforms and lingerie next to the red-white-and-blue Washington jerseys on a purple velvet sofa. They danced with Ovechkin, Johansson, Sheary, Kuznetsov, Kuemper, and Wilson to “Night Train,” another Axl Rose epic. Six dicks and six tits bouncing to the power chords.

“I never thought a white hockey player could dance so good,” Fantasia remarked.

“I never thought anyone was crazy enough to name their daughter Fantasia,” Alex retorted.

“She’s crazy alright,” Jane A. snickered.

“And she wants to make your wildest fantasies come true,” added Jane G.

“Shut up, girls,” Fantasia grunted playfully.

“For real, babe? You want a piece of The Great 8?”

“I dunno, Al. Are you up to the challenge?”

“I never back down from a challenge, on or off the ice. What kind of ‘fantasy’ do you have in mind?”

Fantasia tossed her shiny golden locks and whispered in his ear.

“I wanna suck your stick, Mister Ovechkin.”

“Go right ahead, Miss Fantasia.”

She went right ahead, dropping to her knees on the purple shag carpeting. His big dick went up like a Howitzer. She grabbed it hard with both hands, and shoved it down her throat.

“Hell yeah, girl!” Jane A. beamed. “Welcome to Starfuckers, Incorporated.”

Fantasia giggled with a mouthful at her fellow Luxor employee. The other Caps lined up behind the ladies for a better view.

“Holy shit,” Alex groaned triumphantly as her shiny golden head bobbed back and forth. “Соси этот член как следует, чертова шлюха из казино.”

“Hey Kuzie, what did he just say?” asked Jane G.

“Suck that cock real good, you fucking casino slut,” translated Evgeny Kuznetsov. Fantasia giggled again, and kept performing fellatio like the world was ending in Sin City. A minute later, Ovechkin waved toward the Janes.

“Come on, you hockey groupies. Get down on your knees and get some Ovie action.”

“Da, da, da!” Jane A. giggled.

“A hat trick of hoes for the Great 8,” Jane G. remarked. She assumed the position on the carpet, yanked his cock out of Fantasia’s mouth like a Jawbreaker, and sucked it like a lollipop. Half licking, half sucking, with lots of moaning. Jane A. tilted her head sideways and sucked his ballsack with same enthusiasm. Fantasia massaged his tight skate-sculpted ass with one hand, and squeezed Jane G’s big honkers with the other. The other guys got hard while watching the good show, and masturbated slowly with their free hands.

“Hey Al, is this your first three-way?” asked Darcy Kuemper.

“Nah, I’ve had quite a few. But this is the first one I wasn’t too drunk to remember… hopefully.”

“You better enjoy being a full-on celebrity, ’cause it won’t last much longer,” advised Tom Wilson. “ESPN will worship you for a day or two, and then they’ll go back to worshipping Patrick Mahomes and Steph Curry.”

“Fuck Mahomes and Curry,” Fantasia grunted. “This Russian dude got a better dick than any black guy I ever saw.” She shoved the brunettes apart and shoved Ovechkin’s stick back into her mouth, whipping her head back and forth and growling against that big Slavic sausage. Alex was obviously enthralled by that Nordic bottle blonde.

“Oh god, ho, ho, hoooo shit, эта белокурая сучка-рулетка безумнее Пиворовой!”

“Hey Kuzie, translate that for my fellow Americans,” Marcus said.

“This blonde roulette bitch is better than Vyalitsyna!” Evgeny beamed.

“We’re all crazy bitches, Mister Oh-vee-etch-kin,” remarked Jane G. She worked her hairy cunt with both hands, the she pointed toward a pile of luggage. “Show me your other stick, baby. The one you shoot with, on the ice.”

“Sure thing, Jesse Jane.”

Alex went over and pulled out a high-end composite NHL stick with “Ovechkin #8” engraved on the shaft.

“Wow, that’s another big manly rod,” cooed Jane A.

“Fuck yeah. I handle every stick like a fucking all-star.”

He pulled out an official NHL hockey puck, dropped it on the tile floor near a jacuzzi, finagled it around, and wrist-shot that hard rubber disc into a king-size mattress.

“Ovechkin fires, he scoooooooores!” Fantasia cheered like the Washington TV announcer.

“I won’t retire ’till I score a thousand, Fantasia.”

“Score one on me, Al,” said Jane G. “Shove that stick up my twat.”

“Shove it up all our twats,” grunted Jane A.

The ladies lay down next to each on the giant mattress and hoisted their legs high in the air, interlocking them to form a nice XXX. Three pretty pink pussies peeking out. Alex waltzed right in and turned that hockey tool into the world’s longest dildo, sliding the handle through Fantasia’s dripping labia. She moaned harshly while flicking her clit.

“Fucky yeah, fuck the shit out of me that with big alpha male stick!”

He rocked it back and forth while stroking his cock with the other hand, to the ryhthm of “Cold as Ice” by Foreigner on Tom Wilson’s phone.

“Oh shit, your stick handling is so fucking good,” she moaned.

“Setting that axe on fire, like Jimi Hendrix,” Conor Sheary commented, referencing Ovechkin’s 2009 on-ice homage to the rock and roll hall of famer. Fantasia reach an unmistakble orgasm, squirting all over the stick.

“Take a shot on me, boy!” ordered Jane A.

Alex shoved his stick up Jane A’s twat. She squeezed her big boobs till they turned red, and Jane G. slapped her friend’s throbbing cunt over and over, until she came like a geyser.

“Давай, Ови,” Evgeny said from the sidelines. “Сделайте еще один хет-трик в пользу хозяев поля.” (Come on, Ovie. Score another hat trick for the home team.)

“Да-с, господин Кузнецов!” Alex snickered. (Yes sir, Mister Kuznetsov!) He pulled out the stick and finagled it around at the foot of the bed. “Ovechkin enters the o-zone, hustles past the defenders, sees an opening, and, heeee…”

“Oh fuck!” Jane G. groaned as he scored a hat trick in her snatch, making her squirt like hell. His hockey stick was drenched with clear feminine fluid, reflecting the brilliant light from an expensive Waterford crystal chandelier. Those slutty Vegas twenty-somethings couldn’t get enough of that slutty Moscow thirty-something.

“Damn, you gambling bitches are dirty as fuck. You need a nice hot bath,” Alex said, waving his stick toward the jacuzzi.

“Fuck yeah, I wanna feel those penthouse bubbles,” Fantasia groaned. She unlocked her legs from her fellow casino employees, pranced over to a big transparent tub near the diagonal windows, and filled it with hot water from a faucet. She turned on the jets, climbed into the steamy bubbling cauldron, and sighed luxuriantly.

“Livin’ the high life, baby,” Fantasia cooed. “Get your hard hockey ass in this hot tub, and we’ll have some more fun.”

Alex and the Janes joined her in the jacuzzi, gazing out at the many neon lights of Las Vegas beneath a crescent moon. They sipped some more high-end vodka, then Fantasia got on her knees on the bench and bent over, assuming the doggy-style position.

“Fuck me real good, Sargeant Ovechkin. Invade my pussy in this unfrozen pond.”

“Sir, yes sir!” Alex replied with a mock military salute. He stood up in the sloshing water with his cocktail glass, and rammed his man-rod up her honey-hole. The other Washington Capitals convened like congress around the outside of the tub, jerking off to the aquaphile sex show.

“Fuck yeah, you fucking Vegas ho,” Alex growled. “That hot water gets you so hot.”

“Fucking right, boy. I love getting wet and getting pussy-pounded. Pour that Russian fire water on my ass!”

He sprinkled vodka all over her heart-shaped posterior, and licked it off eagerly. He shoved his penis back into her vagina and rammed away with renewed aggression.

“Fuck yeah,” Ovechkin growled. “I got more goals than Gretzky, and more pussy than Wilt the Stilt.”

A minute later, Jane G. got up and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Time for a line change, #8. Fuck me just as hard, and slap-shot my ass cheeks.”

She bent over next to Fantasia. Al gave his glass to Marcus Johansson, and attacked her twat with vicious thrusts. He gave those wet yoga-toned cheeks a good smack, splattering water droplets past the edge of the tub. Aquaphilia at its finest.

“Harder! Spank this naughty girl so good!”

He spanked Jane G. hard as fuck with both hands, over and over and over, to the ryhthym of “Cum on Feel the Noize” by Slade. He pulled out of her pussy and shoved his man-stick up her asshole, making her squeal in delight.

“Fuck yeah, you dirty hockey dude! Screw me like a Moscow hooker.”

The water kept bubbling and bubbling, and the rough anal sex kept going and going. She arched her athletic back with each heavy blow, making her spinal cord bulge into high definition. Jane A. tapped out Jane G., and she shoved Alex down onto the bench in the jacuzzi.

“Let me score the hat trick, Mister Oh-vee-etch-kin. Just sit there like a good boy, and enjoy the ride.”

She mounted him like a Vegas cowgirl, and took his cock up her pussy like a call girl at the Moonlite Bunny ranch. Her big boobies bounced hypnotically, and her big badonkadonk sent tidal waves splashing over the edge of the tub, soaking the feet of the other hockey dudes. She grabbed Ovechkin’s burly shoulders for balance and screwed him even harder, moaning like a porn star. Alex just sat there with his arms around the shoulders of Fantasia and Jane G., grinning from ear to ear. Jane G. took his dick up her ass and picked up the pace, screwing him in a splashy blur.

“Holy shit, your big Russian ram-rod feels so good in my tight slutty asshole.”

That dirty dealer chick kept bouncing and bouncing in the bubbling cauldron, and Ovechking kept spanking her Natasha Fatale.

“Don’t bust his balls in your butt, Jesse Jane,” said Tom. “Let’s have an old-fashioned hockey bukkake with these bitches.”

“Mmm, that sounds dee-lish,” Fantasia giggled. “It’s time to get wet, so everyone out of the pool.”

The ladies hopped out of the hot tub, and the gentlemen circled around their naked bodies; soaking the purple carpet with water from the Hoover Dam.

“You get first dibs, Al,” said Marcus. “You fucking earned it with all those goals.”

“I’m gonna blow #896 on this blondie bitch,” Ovechkin boasted. He entered the face-off circle and jerked his stick two inches away from Fantasia’s sky-blue eyes.

“Oh god, oh god, ho, ho, ho, bот и цель, ты, чертова поклонница, шлюха!” (Here comes the goal, you fucking hockey groupie!)

He blew a big one indeed, splattering spunk on every square inch of her supermodel-caliber face. She moaned approvingly, then sucked out every last drop. Conor Sheary swooped in, stroking his shaft at high speed.

“Hooo shit. You’re my fantasy, Fantasia. My dirty fucking dream!”

He blew out a little more jizz on her pale milky forehead. She giggled with the hot creamy sensation, then sucked his dick aggresively. Marcus nudged Conor apart, and wrist-shot his six-inch stick toward the goal.

“Here comes the hat trick, you fucking skank!”

“Ooooooh yeah,” Fantasia moaned as the sperm rained down. “It’s so warm, I fucking love it.” She wrapped her lips around his thick shaft to get it all, then she tapped the shoulders of the Janes. “Hey guys, give my friends a little taste.”

“Sure thing, Fantasia,” replied Evgeny Kuznetsov. “Gentlemen prefer blondes, but brunettes are more fun.”

“Damn right,” replied Jane G. “Bust your Russian nut all over my pretty face.”

Evgeny grabbed her brown hair, jerked her head up toward his face, and jerked his johnson like an all-star.

“Дерьмо, дерьмо, дерьмо, ты лучшая шлюха с рулеткой, которую я когда-либо видел…” (Shit, shit, shit, you’re the best roulette slut I ever…)

His face contorted in agony, then exploded in pleasure. She got literally plastered; keeping her eyes open as her vision got clouded with cum. She sucked his penis blindly while squeezing his hard ass cheeks.

“Score one on me, Tom-boy!” beamed Jane A.

“Fuck yeah, bitch,” Tom Wilson grunted. “I’m gonna stash my biscuit on the top shelf, where momma hides the cookies.”

He deeked a defender, waltzed right in, and scored a wicked wrister, drenching her from head to knees with thick sticky white fluid.

“Jee-zus, Tom-boy,” Ovechkin chuckled. “You must not have jerked off for a fucking week!”

He kept standing there spanking his monkey for another thirty seconds. Darcy Kuemper got impatient and nudged him apart.

“Here’s an empty-net goal for the goalie. Squeeze those faces together, ladies.”

They pressed their cum-soaked faces together at awkward angles, and Darcy delivered another hefty payload; flicking his stick around like a firehose to give everyone a fair distribute.

“Woooo!” Alex cheered as the casino dealers sucked their dicks some more. “That was the best damn fuck I ever had, on either side of the pond.”

“I went to an orgy, and a hockey game broke out,” Conor remarked.

“Time for a post-game press conference,” Alex said. “What did you think of my record-breaking performance, ladies?”

“It was a lot of fun, but I’ve had better,” Fantasia quipped.

“Me too,” added Jane G.

“Me three,” added Jane A.

“We’re looking forward to a lot more action with Starfuckers, Incorporated.”

“No doubt, Fanny,” replied Tom Wilson. “We’re gonna hit you ladies up again, next time we play the Golden Knights in Vegas.”

“Another Sin City smackdown,” Alex beamed. “I’ll score a hat trick, then I’ll play some roulette, and then I’ll hit the fucking jackpot.”