Page 221 of Bad Pucking Influence

Tripp doesn’t miss a beat as I fall on top of him, lips and teeth and tongues tangling in a frenzy of lust. He bites my bottom lip just hard enough to sting before licking away the burn and delving inside my mouth, groaning as his hips rut against mine.

Hands rake through my hair, down my back, groping my ass. Mine are just as eager, clutching at Tripp’s arms, chest, and head, trapping his mouth against mine and swallowing the sounds he makes.

I’ve kissed people before—women—and while it was often soft and gentle, there were times it became hurried and needy. But it was never passionate. It never consumed me or flooded my senses. It never threatened to drown out the world until the only sensation left was the feel of my partner’s lips.

My chest aches with want. My heart beats like it does when the seconds tick down on the clock and I’m desperately trying to hang on for the win. That’s never happened with another person—only the game. The game I’m not playing right now.

The anger that had started to dissipate comes roaring back, mixing with the adrenaline and desire. It makes me crave Tripp with an almost feral need.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of my mind, a voice tells me to slow down. That I’m too unhinged. Then Tripp slides his hands under my shirt and rakes his nails down my back. “I need you. Now.”

We’re a tangle of limbs as we race to shed our clothes, miraculously staying on the couch as we contort ourselves to get naked. Then Tripp leans over the arm, sticking his ass toward me, and hands me a small packet of lube.

I lean forward and growl into his ear. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared.” He rocks back and forth, trying to rub his crease along my length.

“You were a boy scout?”

“Fuck no, but you never know when you might get the chance to play with a fat cock.”

I don’t know if it’s the obnoxious words or the visual of my dick resting between his cheeks. Either way, the thought of anyone but me seeing him like this suddenly has me seeing red, and before my mind can catch up my palm cracks down on his ass.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, rocking backward. “I didn’t know you had it in you, big guy, but I like it. Again. With your cock in me.”

His command has precum practically dripping from my slit. Have I ever been this hard before? I rush to get myself nice and slick and line up to his hole.

“Don’t be gentle.” Tripp looks at me over his shoulder, biting the lip that’s still puffy from my kisses.

I punch forward as I grip his hip and pull him toward me, nearly losing it when my intrusion makes his eyes flutter closed in bliss. God, he’s beautiful. Then I smack him again.

Tripp’s mouth falls open on a guttural moan as his hole clenches around me, gripping me so tight I have to choke off the air in my lungs to keep my body from tipping over the edge. Holy… I smack him again as I thrust my hips forward, and it happens once more, only this time my lungs give out, and I let out an animalistic groan of my own.

Just as before, all my restraint seems to evaporate, and I give in to my baser urges. My hips piston forward relentlessly as I latch onto Tripp’s waist for support, pulling his body over my cock as I drive it deep.

The pleasure is so intense my vision blurs, the slip and slide of our joined bodies engulfing me in a carnal nirvana unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It’s as if every nerve in my body has gone on vacation, except for the ones cocooned inside Tripp’s body, and they’re on high alert, crackling and zinging over and over again like fireworks as they build toward the finale.

Grunting, I push toward the precipice, the feel of Tripp’s cock slapping my leg driving me forward. Then a sharp tug on my balls turns that grunt to a needy whine. I gasp as I realize he’s squeezing both our sacs in his palm.

“Not yet, big guy. I can still hear the guilty voices in your head. No coming til they’re gone,” he commands.

Planting my right foot on the ground for leverage, I thrust as hard and fast as my body will allow, the smack of skin on skin drowning out the post-game coverage on the TV. The speculation about me, and the team, and our future. All the noise that threatened to send me careening into an abyss of anger and self-pity, before Tripp gave me his body as a lifeline.

Jesus. How does he understand me so well? How does he know what I need before I do? How does he make me feel whole?

“Harder.” Tripp's order has me realizing my pace has started to slow. “Get out of your head and fuck me.”

With renewed focus I drive into Tripp’s slick hole, losing myself to the friction and pressure that surrounds me as I tunnel into him.

“That’s it, big guy. Give me all of you. Everything.” He lets go of our balls and grips his cock with a throaty groan, and I find a rhythm that borders on frantic, pounding into him relentlessly as my mind finally quiets, allowing my body full control.

My abs burn, my thighs twitch, and my cock feels like it’s chafing despite the slickness surrounding it. And then his hole clamps down like a pressure cooker, squeezing me to the point of pain. My toes curl and cramp, my balls draw up tight, and I unload like a damn firehose, filling him so fast my cum seeps out and slides down our thighs.

The room goes dark as my release fades, my body too spent to hold my eyelids open, and I collapse against Tripp’s back. My weight causes his arms to give out, and as we fall against the cushions. Our sweaty skin is just slippery enough that my torso slides off his, coming to rest between his warm body and the back of the couch, though our legs are still tangled.

“I hope you pay your cleaning lady well because I painted my entire load on your sofa,” Tripp mumbles beside me.

“I’ll just flip the cushion.”

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